


Eleutheromania

by PlagueBirbizzle



Category: Hamilton - Miranda, Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, everyone is a monster basically, monster human dynamics, monster taboos, no character is safe, probably referencing/adding a lot of turn characters, remembering past lives and unlocking auras, set in new york and some other places, there's a lot of unresolved anger and tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2018-12-30 03:44:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 35,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12099984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlagueBirbizzle/pseuds/PlagueBirbizzle
Summary: (Noun.) a mania or frantic zeal for freedom______________________________________The war for independence brought freedom to humans and pain to monster-kind, and the once myths were slaughtered and erased from history; forever doomed to shackles and chains.For humanity, it was right. That's why the Tome happened; humanity had to secure their freedom.Monsters could never unlock their full potential.History was obliterated, and the future loomed. For two centuries, the Tome ruled, and America's Founding Monsters were left to rot.But Alexander Hadley has been having dreams, time weaving into knots. Past is clashing future, and the present is the eye.It's a matter of time until the storm breaks.@thedevilofmonticello on tumblr!On hold until further notice, due to potential revisions.





	1. An introduction

**Author's Note:**

> ...Well, this'll be fun

_The universe works in mysterious ways. Whether one looks at the planet's orbit or the blood flowing through inflated veins, there always seems to be some hidden calm to everything. It’s cute, actually; the sheer thought that the vast expanse of matter will be keeping itself together, but still expanding all the same._

_Growing, rising…_

_Falling through time._

_Well, dear reader, it seems that a little blue planet has not gotten that memo._

 

_Earth —_ _Gaia, whatever you want to call it — used to be way calmer than it is. Nonexistent were the towering skyscrapers and fluorescent billboards, and the air was significantly clearer. It was an age that one would turn their nose at now, of course, but with the archaism, there was freedom. Well, not really, but they were all trying to get to that stage. Freedom: What a **bloody** word, rarely accomplished without some type of skirmish. _

_Oh? I heard that scoff, dear reader, but I am not deterred; these things are fickle, and immediately understanding such concepts can be hard. However, you have me, and thus I can take this impromptu conversation and explain my reasoning. You seem like a smart being, dearie, and I would hate for you to enter this tale without a touch of exposition._

 

_And refreshments, of course, but that will occur in time; I'm using the cups for...collection purposes._

 

_But I digress. Some are born into the art of freedom, soaked in blood and wailing with passion, but others merely reemerge into the blissful ignorance of life itself. Born and reborn, born and reborn...It never stops; their purpose is never realized. It is almost like a dance; each step counts, but the endgame is never concrete. For most, their feet bleed by the time they've perfected such a dance, and for others, well..._

_They don't dance at all; letting the music foretell what could be done._

_I like to call it prophecy; it's a dangerous thing, having so many possibilities — so many steps — at one's disposal, yet a constant in this little dance._

_The steps one made are just before the steps they will make, and in the middle rests the most important variable of them all:_

_Choice._

 

_However, my dear, choice is dead._

 

_Oh._

_I see._

_Pass me a cup, will you? It don't want this one to overflow._

 

_Ah, thank you —_

_Yes, yes, I am perfectly fine; do not focus on me._

_...Once again, we digress._

_I have gotten ahead of myself— Or should I say behind? Time is, for a lack of better term, rather nonexistent for people like me. I am as infinite as the universe herself, and my kin rarely visit anymore for me to catalogue eras, not after the last time. Not that I'd want them too, I'm in enough pain...But let’s not get into this._

_I am here to tell you a story; one that I watched with my own being. It’s something they may tell you between paragraphs of ink, marred trees nestled between leather, but I am sure you’ve never heard the tale like this. Hmm? How am I sure, you ask? Well, my dear, you belong in a realm far more...suited for that little friend we call Freedom._

_And in your world, Choice is alive._

_Where we’re going, however, is far more...monstrous._

 

_Now, before I begin, we should probably address the elephant in the room. When you came here, interest peaked, you must have seen some tidbits that excited you. Yes? I’m surprised you haven’t asked yet, instead of letting little old me ramble. Considering the world you hail from, it's imperative that I bring you up to speed, especially with your minuscule recollection of life itself._

_Monsters are real, dear; you are just on the wrong bed._

_Monsters, indeed, are as real as day. It’s not that hard to swallow, right? You stare into the abyss at night, chasing stars and imagining other civilizations, but most don’t look close to home; your tunnel vision tugged yourself into bliss, re-imagining the unknown into fiction._

_You're here right now, anyway. However, the speculation of the far-fetched has always been an ally to monsterkind, and it helped them for millennia. From the skies to the seas, they’ve managed to hide in plain sight, allies of each other and protective of their own. A phantom society, or an ecosystem made in various afterlives, don’t you think?_

_Just how many unknown variables have crossed your path since you started expelling oxygen?_

_I’ve got you thinking, haven’t I? Let’s not implode your cranium yet, hmm?_

 

 

_Where was I?_

_No, silly me._

_‘When was I?’ would be a better question. Let’s take you back in time, or forward for all those time travelers out there (I miss you, please come and say hello, dearies), to a revolution. A rather important revolution, indeed.  America? Britain? I am sure I do not need to give context. If you’re here, then you have some idea, it seems. But, for the sleepers at the back, I’ll set the scene:_

 

_**Red stains among the blue, a swamp of white musket fire, hooves and orders swaying the symphony of blood splatter. It is a swirl of life bared to Death, vicious.** Ah, the picture of war. The colonies were oh-so willing to die for Miss Freedom, exercising their will to choose, and the King was growing more malicious by the battle. It's insane how many men I saw fall, cast aside to rejoin the war with younger eyes. Oh, if only they knew their time did not end with a bullet, the perhaps they'd stop diving into them. Humans, indeed, are some of the most brutal to their own, childishly blind to existence._

_I was blind once; just don't focus on the eyes, please._

 

_The King’s Army were doing well, I have to admit, and the war was taking a turn for the worst; the Continental Army were falling like flies, their sheer manpower swamped by royal superiority. It was grizzly._

_Statistically, the war should have ended in two years._

_Surprise, it didn’t._

 

_Monsters knew where they stood with humans, the storybooks said more than enough, but the word of dwindling forces spread further than human villages, swirling through irritated witches’ gossip and the spittle of angry lamia. Some, living among the humans themselves, witnessed the fiery tongue of war lay waste to unlikely friends, standing in a sea of plasma and marrow. It was odd, but it wasn’t new...The little strain of humanity creeping into mangled hearts._

_And so the forces grew, and the nightly raids turned into scary tales, told by red and blue alike. Nobody knew where these acts of grace came from, and the gruesome execution brought wary words to even the most brave soldier. It's amazing how words can be used as a weapon more lethal than death, and my, have they spoiled me._

_Individuals turned into legends._ _Battles turned into wins._ _Wars turned into Freedom._

 

_Humans, however, stayed as oblivious as you were a few paragraphs ago._

 

_The Sons (and Daughters, with some sources) of Liberty decimated the war with barely a lift of a finger, claw or wing, and the British were left to count their dead. The humans, triumphant, declared independence soon after, and any trace of their unidentified allies faded into the shadows like dust in a corner. But who cared? They were free, and building the structure to a nation independent of a monarch. They were free. Right? The usual suspects rose to power, as I am sure you saw in your books: Washington, Jefferson, Hamilton. Yes? Good._

 

_Not for long._

_Prophecy_ _birthed a new creature from their breach of blood._

Freedom  _— true choice — died._

 

_The humans called it the Creature Tome: a manual of sorts, deposited into the eyes of humankind soon after the dust had settled. In actuality, the dust had been stirred up only months prior, springing from the place Freedom was slain. I recall losing a couple eyes at the time, watching the madness gorge into me. The tome spoke truth, and preached lies, but mostly, it declared the schematics of all that was hidden._

_Most of what was hidden; prophecy, bless them, never sees the full picture._

_Every single monster that set a foot, claw or fin into that land, however, had their secrets and weaknesses exchanged, and my, did those pages damage more than your average paper-cut. Like a dance, the steps faltered into a new tune._

_Humans, like they do with every mind-blowing revelation, had reacted with their minds._

_They went for the names first._

_The author, in delicate script, had included names. Powerful names, in fact, which left the country in a spiral, especially with their importance. Monsters, holding too many positions of power, had no chance against the sheer power of humanity._

 

_Monsterkind saw their world burn with every line read._

_It was pain._

 

_The skies turned grey with smoke as Monticello burned; screams echoing inside the estate. Poems still tell the tales of the creature it held; an omen to all who knew of him. Montpelier almost got the same treatment, but the book was merciful._

_“Abominations to the world!” Fae were executed in the square like dogs, while lychans died slow deaths full of silver; their mouths foamed. The cry of triumphant farmers rang among the pain, happy to have a scapegoat for failing crops and ailing sheep._

_“Harbingers of Death and destruction!” Vampires squirming, suffered the torture of true lychan venom, harvested from their dead allies; they escaped the burning of netted merfolk and witches._

_Names were read, and families shattered; breaking apart destinies for centuries to come. It was a massacre and a triumph in both regards, seen by the victors and the victims alike. It was glorious._

_It was pain._

_By the time the names had spread across the seas, Mount Vernon was no longer with them._

 

_Monsterkind, indeed, saw their world burn with every line read._

_It was pain._

_Monsterkind shattered._

_Everything ended._

  


_And so we come to the crux of it all, hmm? Why would I be telling you things such as this, when you could have just waited for the story to actually begin...Well, dear reader, it’s a tad more complicated than that. I had to make sure we are on the same line, dancing the same dance. One’s life is never truly linear, in fact, but some never realize the fact as they live their lives —_

_...You look confused, reader dear._

 

_Oh._

_Oh._

_Your mistake._

_You poor creature; reincarnation is a foreign subject to you?  And I've been speaking as if we're somewhat equals!_

_Oh my, let me fix that, hmm?_

_Reincarnation, the act of living multiple lives, is as real as the boogeyman in this tale; one’s aura dwells in its realm until it completes their purpose, before either choosing to live forever, or take on a new quest. The latter, a big part of the world as we will know it, is a reason why things are very...restricted._

_After the tome, words sharpened into the rules you'll see around this realm they created variables that changed the dance forever._

_In summary, they say: Monsters are a blemish on true humanity._

_Besides, dear reader, a monster’s purpose is to rule all of humankind, right? Humans are oh-so humane, as the word states?_

 

_I’d laugh at the irony, but that is not my place. My place is here, and there, and everywhere, in fact, but your place will continue its linear stroll through these paragraphs. Like me, but never fully. I watch and relay, always one moment behind you. You do, I watch..._ _and perhaps a few more cups will be enough to keep me alive._

_Yes? Yes._

_Let's continue._

 

_Now, I will start our story in a familiar setting to your frame of reference: 2017, New York City. The city is just as you left it, dearie, but not quite. You'll notice soon enough. Cast your eyes to the side, if you will, and look at the grizzly billboard of a monster patrol advertisement, right next to a set of medication reminders._

**_“Live your own life! Remember to take your Lifepills!’_ **

**_‘’’Keep your City Safe! Report all suspicious activity to…’’_ **

**_‘’United by our Humanity!’’_ **

_You see them, hmm? The entire country has them, actually, and it’s a sight to see if you’re not used to them. Then again, it instills a sense of calm to the tales of the Tome, and humankind has slept in peace for centuries; there are no monsters under their beds. Children are taught from a young age to carry protection charms and detectors, to recite exorcisms and call the defense units, to forget the dreams they have when they sleep…_

_To ingest a hindrance to manifesting age old auras, to stay human...Humane. It's dark magic indeed: Powerful modern alchemy, at worst, and mangled souls at best._

 

_Of course, there is always some hope for the underdogs, so please do not stress until I direct your eyes to one of my many protagonists._

 

_Hmm...There!_

 

_You see him? Green hoodie, brown eyes? Well done! Have a biscuit!_

 

_He’s going in for some bean sludge— I’m sure this is his second today — and he’s in a rush. Do not pay attention to the latter, as that is his normal state. It’s a gift, actually, and his aura would agree, despite its mangled state (Between you and me, it’s banging against the pill-magic as we speak). His name, as you’ll soon find out, is Alexander Hadley, like the wind system ironically, and my, is he a hurricane of a man. He's always been slightly displeased with himself, come to think of it, and I've watched his progress for a long time. It's almost like his fear of storms; honestly, it's ironic. Remember that; we might need that later._

_His days go as any human’s goes, sucked into the depths of normality, but this day will change that...and you are here to watch._

_Sit back, and buckle up, as this is where the story begins anew, dear reader. You need not do anything important until I say so; all we need to do is watch. Perhaps you can lean in and listen as well? I'll make sure I keep this together._

 

_You continue your story, dear; I'll be right behind you._

_I think it’s time for him to remember me._

 


	2. A meeting

Honestly, pulling an all-nighter was a normal occurrence, and the man huffed at the dark bags under his eyes with a hint of disappointment. After his roommate had left only a few weeks ago, complaining about ungodly schedules and quirks, the man hadn’t heard any external voice of reason ever since.  Sure, if one counted the grumbles of his stomach at odd intervals, or the pounding headaches in the early hours of the morning, then it’d be null and void to say he needed a caretaker; especially since he’d learned how to ignore his body for days on end. Right? Some called it insanity, but Alexander Hadley called it life.

It was the same life that got him to where he was now, carving his own destiny in a sea of people and personalities. Unlike most, starting off with the luxury of a stable background, Alex knew he’d have to hit the ground and continue running, no matter how broken his legs were on contact. He knew not where he’d come from, nor any biological relations besides tales of the dehydrated woman who’d been paid to smuggle him into the country on a cargo ship, but he knew he’d survived that long to cope through a rugged childhood in the foster-care system.

Infancy was fuzzy in his mind, having spent the brunt of it surrounded by a plethora of kids in his situation; he still called it hunting ground for every type of human in this world. Honestly, if he thought back to his days in the home, he could link so many faces to the generic public: The bully, sneering slurs, emulated the hot-shot units who snagged people after curfew, while the kid who hogged all the crayons probably turned out to be the snooty pill-dispenser, demanding extra for a basic human need. The world already seemed to steer its inhabitants into boxes of stereotypes, which never ceased to amaze him at the time. He’d seen through all of the lies - where people say everyone is their own person - and instead focused on his own story.

He was not about to be another stereotype.

He knew, oh how he knew, that he wasn’t supposed to live like this; he wasn’t supposed to be the trophy kid of all the doting parents he’d met and left. They’d all tried their pretty games, wooing him with their wealth while their artificial faces clacked with indifference, and he’d seen them give up when he’d rebuked their lies. It was easy; people were too easy. That, and the way each got scared at the way he dreamed.

* * *

 

_It had been his third foster family trial, he recalled, and it was frankly one of the better ‘vacations’ he experienced, but it ended in a different style to the others. Third times the charm and all that jazz, it seems._

_The Troy family were a nice bunch: A middle-class family complete with parents, an older son and a rambunctious Irish settler. Confirmed humanitarians, by progeny and mere morals, and they seemed to just love helping out every human they could find.  After Mrs. Amanda Troy found out she would be unable to have another child, her motherly instinct turned to the fostering of another, and her husband could not help but agree. Having an empty nest seemed to be weighing down on the woman, and his late hours at work made it even worse. As destiny had it, the family stumbled across a quaint foster home in Harlem and fell in love with a scrappy boy writing stories in the corner._

_If only they’d listened to the head caretaker; she’d said that the boy, Alexander, had been having a bad reaction to his new dosage of Life-Pills, and was not ready to be sent away without stabilising his humanity. Not that there was something wrong with him, she’d added hastily when the boy looked over, but he was delicate at the moment._

_Destiny, ever the cheek, had put her face-to-face with an actual doctor, though._

_Adamantly, Amanda insisted that they at least try and sort out the problem, which they’d do free-of-charge with the boy’s month at their home. Ready to follow every avenue that came with the decision, Dr. Troy agreed, and a month later they had a twelve-year-old Caribbean boy at their door in Forest Hills._

_The first week went as any would have expected: Alex refused to talk unless spoken to, and he tip-toed around every issue with the wariness of a lamb, but that did not deter Amanda at all. In fact, she just pushed harder, and couldn’t help but smile at the way the boy reciprocated. He was a fighter, that’s for sure. The days were spent trying to get the boy to open up among the family, and that was accomplished whenever she found some sheets of paper and some pens. With those tools in hand, she’d watch the boy write on the breakfast nook for hours on end; he'd write non-stop, with no indication of a lax in thought. Sometimes, Alexander would forget to hide his notes, falling asleep at the table and not waking up before Amanda left her study, and the woman would sneak a peek at the genius he had concocted. Most of it, with amusement, detailed his plans to get into college early, and thus boosted her thoughts of him assimilating, while others…_

_The others were utter insanity. The once scattered handwriting of the boy turned into looped cursive at these stages, curling through clipped tales and flowery language.  If it wasn’t the style of prose that made her toes curl, then it was the detailed descriptions of death and destruction that made her heart sink to her feet. It clawed at her throat as the pages shook in her hand, the source sleeping soundly, and her soul somehow made her step back as if she was in danger. As if she is in danger… Honestly, that must have been her first sign of wariness. But no, she vowed, she was not too late; she could save his soul, she could protect this boy from whatever sins that tried to settle. Humanity triumphs against all, she’d chanted to herself over and over, and this was just a test of faith. A test…It was a test._

_Discreetly, Alexander’s dosage was increased, her husband oblivious, and the boy slept like a rock._

_The boy didn’t notice the missing pages._

_It wasn’t until the fourth week when the test came back to meet her, and it was in the form of a convulsing Alexander in the middle of a storm, eyes lolling and mouth blabbering nonsense. It’d been unforeseen, and Amanda had been alone at home while her husband took Petey for a check-up. Alexander, in his usual seat, had resumed his writing marathon, a glass of juice and a used set of pill jackets by his side. It was quiet, and the cloudy weather warranted a lazy day watching old romance movies, which never seemed to interest the boy anyway. Amanda settled under some blankets on the couch, within eye-view of her little writer, and continued her mini-marathon._

_She hadn’t noticed the shaking until the first rumble of thunder, followed by the unmistakable whimper of a child. ‘’Alex, dear? Are you oka—‘’_

_She was surprised by the sudden movement of a human by her side, just as a crack of lightning flew across the patio window; too bright and far too close. The sudden sight and the increase in weight made her scream, but the shaking figure clung to her with intense vigour, whimpers increasing. ‘’Alexander? What is the m-meaning of this—‘’_

_When she heard the mutters, her voice died in her throat, only to come back when she saw the lights flicker in sync to her potential son’s gaze. Lights popped, the television whirred, and she recalled seeing the sink start leaking water…_

_Her faith was silently broken when she returned the boy to the home, complete with enough Life-Pills to serve the place for months, and never came back._

* * *

 

Alexander remembered nothing of that incident, but the twelve year old was able to piece the tragedy together with what little he heard. Besides, he’d lived with the random blackouts and vivid dreams for years, and somehow they deterred parents from taking him on. It hurt, though, and clawed at his self-worth on more than one occasion; it was hard watching kids come and go, while he always seemed to go nowhere. His dreams, coupled with immense headaches, always seemed to hint at something bigger, something better than all of this…But they were his downfall. How could one thing bring such different perspectives? How could this not be insane?

It was insane, but he’d made his way up, and most importantly, out.

_It was more of a rant than an award winning piece, but when the state-school he attended organized a small writing competition, everyone knew the poor foster-boy was going to enter. Alexander, hungry for the challenge, put as much effort into the small $30 prize as he did in his studies, warranting many a student to tease his determination. The piece, stretching over ten torn-out pages, detailed an extensive research on the concept of reincarnation, and how the need for total humanity may be impeding the return of brilliant, yet human, figures. It was a feat to write, and a total bitch to research with minimal access to the library, but when one assistant teacher read through the last entry, he couldn’t help but gape at the superiority of this student's writing._

_A year later, Alexander was a Hadley._

And that’s why he worked so hard; working had always seemed to get him even closer to what he wanted. His father had always been ready to help him achieve his dreams, even if it meant working through his sickness to put money into his college fund. Raphael had been there whenever a big bout of headaches rocked his adoptive son in the night, holding him close and whispering just how lucky he was to be there for his son. He’d always put his son first, and never seemed to be angry when he forgot a dosage, nor when another appliance broke in the sparse kitchen of the flat he’d paid up for.

When his father lost his battle with a nasty strain of cancer, Alexander had vowed to do what he could to honour the sacrifices he made. He’d left more than enough to start him off, and he wasn’t about to screw up.

He could not fuck up.

Alex smiled at the face in the mirror, watching as it smiled back, and left the sparse flat with a shoulder-bag by his side. He’d brushed his teeth, taken his half-dosage of Life-Pill (He made a mental note to stop by the clinic to buy some more after he’d received his small, monthly scholarship allowance) and stuffed his bag with the papers he had to scan to his lecturers. When it came to breakfast, he’d have to walk some distance to the one coffee shop he knew had the cheapest cup, with at least a good amount of caffeine within, despite the seven other places he could have frequented.  Columbia did have its fair share of caffeine addicts, anyway.

Ah, the things one does to survive. Steps quick, the man navigated the stairs (the elevator had broken again, and he was only on the sixth floor anyway) and weaved through pedestrians as he shook off the autumn air.

His favourite shop, however, did have its perks, and they suited his needs to the tee. Firstly, the Night-Owl was rather close to one of the lecture halls he frequented, and not that far from some secluded spots to write. In fact, his favourite perk was the fact that the place didn’t have many visitors due to its less savoury blend, and Alex was grateful that he could avoid all the other snotty lawyers in his degree. It was heaven on earth, if any.

Pulling his green hoodie up, in an attempt to shield his ears from the early morning air, the man spotted the frosted glass of The 'Owl and huffed, already seeing the light inside. It wasn’t odd for the owners to open earlier than usual anyway, and they rarely let anyone stand outside if they were in the building. Somebody must have been around too early; probably not used to the actual opening time, it seemed. Nonetheless, Alex extended his already short stride and reached the door, wiping his shoes across the owl-themed mat and stepping inside.

The quaint bell was a given, and the strong smell of espresso filled his lungs with each breath, somehow bringing some light to sleep deprived eyes. It was a sight to see, if one looked carefully, but one would swear a few hairs in his ponytail twitched with excitement. Striding to the counter, Alexander noticed just how many people had managed to arrive before him, his usual tables occupied. A groan left his lips, but he ordered anyway, scanning the room for any vacancy.

By the time he’d gotten his usual – a large cup of caffeine sludge – his eyes had landed on a small standing table with one seat open. It wasn’t the only seat open, but the other occupant brought some type of interest to his gaze.

Alexander didn’t have a word to describe it, though.

_He’d sat in on so many of his guest lectures, always snagging a seat in the first five rows, and writing furiously as the man in question went on about the art of law. Everyone who was anyone already knew the lecturer’s story, how he’d graduated top of his class and earlier than expected, which never ceased to amaze Alex whilst puzzling him. It was true, the man had an air of clarity that rivalled any lawyer in the courtroom, but the blatant way he held his opinions was something Alex seemed to lack. The man in front of him was holding something back, hidden behind such persuasive notes, whilst Alexander couldn’t even figure out his own swirl of emotions._

_Something about Mr. Burnes made him curious…It made him familiar._

About to sit down, making sure to place his cup away from the books on the table, Alexander cleared his throat as the man looked up. "Pardon me…Is this seat taken?"

Their eyes met, and Alexander felt a sharp snap in the middle of his stomach. The gaze didn’t seem to relent for what felt like years, each party staring each other down with a small tinge of shock. Alexander, in his bout of pain, almost didn’t catch the flash in Burnes’ eyes, quickly masked by the passive glaze he always seemed to emulate. He did, however, see the man’s grip on his book tighten, possibly from the sudden intrusion. An introduction to Creature Rights, the title read, written in gold. After the decades of silent scrutiny, Alexander diverted his eyes to the frosted window, some type of embarrassment etching his features as a fist curled into existence. What the hell was he thinking? Walking up to one of Columbia’s best and just asking to sit in his presence? He wasn’t even that good a lawyer, anyway, so why would he even deserve it? Man, he’d probably been reserving the seat for—

"I am not sure if you wanted to say those things aloud, sir." Alex’s head snapped back at the voice, calm and collected. ‘"But I assure you, your reputation in the open debates precedes you, and that warrants some respect even if you don’t think you deserve it." Once the fog from his eyes cleared, Alex was greeted with the smallest of smiles from the man, who lifted a foot to push out the chair. The smile, despite being polite, seemed a little off, a little pained. Perhaps he’d said something? "Besides, I think your praise is…Blinded. Just like your assumptions of this seat. If you’d like to join me, please go ahead."

There was a brief pause in conversation as the two stared each other down, the younger scanning for any signs of ill intent while the other waited calmly, before the former flopped into the seat with a loud sigh. The words came out only moments later. "Oh erm! Thank you so much Mr. Burnes, sir-" The words made both men twitch slightly, seen by neither, but Alexander continued. "I didn’t want to intrude on your reading and- It looks like a nice book though. And yeah, you’re a busy man and I just needed a seat to finish off one of my projects and you were the first person I saw and-"

Alexander heard the chuckle before he saw it, eyes darting from their focus on the table to spot a more genuine smile on the man’s lips. "Your mouth is as racing as it is in the courtroom, it seems. Don’t stress, Mr. Hadley. I was just doing some light reading." Alex smirked at the sentence, eyebrow rising. "Ah, that’s much calmer. You should try and…"

"Talk less? Yeah, I figured." Alexander smirked over his cup, before taking an obscene sip of coffee. "I’ll remember that, sir."

"…Hmm." The man seemed to pause for a moment and sigh, eyes glazing over with something Alexander couldn’t quite pin, but the emotion was evident. It was like a puzzle missing a few pieces; as if he knew what was being built…It, however, seemed to scare both parties equally.

But where were the missing pieces?

"Well, I’m sure we can save for the formal talk for the debates." The words came flooding back with the normalization of his eyes, and Alexander blinked for the first time in ages. "Call me Aaron, and feel free to work on the table…I’m guessing it’s a last minute project? Need any help?’’

Alex noticed the outstretched hand among his flipping heart, mind mulling over the words uttered. They held a formal air, yes, but also has the unmistakable sense of…what was it….what was it?

Why were the words leaving?

Instead of answering his frustrated mind, Alexander met the hand with a firm shake, a smile meeting a thin-lipped grin. "Then call me Alexander…And since you asked, it’s due in six months."

There was a bit of teeth in Aaron’s smile that time.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I 94.7% away from adding Hamburr to my list of ships?  
> (Narrator: Save them)


	3. A revelation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw;; Description of violence and slight perverted-ness

If someone had told him that he’d have Aaron Burnes’ number on his phone, and multiple late night-time call logs, then Alexander would have laughed his way off a cliff. But here he was, making a friend without seeming to push them away, and that was a miracle in itself. The man hadn’t been able to secure the gift of friendship in his past few years in his course, after many near wins ending with some angry argument, yet he’d hit it off with Burnes – Aaron – after that fateful meeting in The Night Owl.

Alex smiled softly at the phone screen, and swiped to the messages he’d received, unsurprised to see that he already had a text from Aaron. The fluorescent haze of his laptop filled the dimly lit study room (One light-bulb had popped yet again, which wasn’t something odd. The place had always had faulty lighting), yet he was still busy writing the assignment he’d started on in the café. It’d been about two weeks since that day, and the amendments they’d discussed still whirled around on multiple word documents. Alexander may not have an organized sleeping schedule, but his writing…

Oh, how he kept that up to date.

The phone buzzed almost immediately after he placed it down, another text replacing the previous, and he rolled his eyes at the coincidence. Aaron, for a lack of better term, had taken it upon himself to watch out for his sleeping patterns, especially when he’d heard that he was a frequent overnight dozer in the library. The argument had started on one of their less brief rendezvouses at the café; once Burnes brought up the rumour, and Hadley debunked it with the excuses of a child, it was all over. A compromise was reached, and Alexander had agreed to go home at least 45 minutes before curfew hit.

Curfew was something the city abided by like the pills; in fact, the whole world had some type of curfew in place to round up suspicious people. Of course, night-shift workers had special passes to do things, but those were specially monitored. Having a fake pass warranted immediate prosecution, and people couldn’t afford to have that on their names. In short, being caught after curfew was something Alexander had learned to avoid, as that would jeopardise his scholarship immediately.

That, and the groups that roamed the streets. Everyone knew that monsters were not truly dead, and that their ranks rose in the night to hunt and kill any human they could find. It was common knowledge even without the Tome’s words, and humankind made sure that they were safe by restricting their presence at night. There were tales of grizzly gangs that haunted alleyways, grabbing whores and draining loiters of their lives, or even the packs that terrorized neighbourhoods for money and blood, but humans as a whole stayed safe. No monster dared to stay out too long with the Night Units about.

Alexander shivered at the thought, remembering a close shave with a group of them only a few months back.

_Draped in bulletproof black, with masks hiding scowls and glares, the units roamed the streets in search of the inhumane, kitted up with weapons any monster should fear. Their boots fell upon asphalt with no sound, and the wave of intimidation held no option to beg for mercy. Once they had you, they owned you, and any monster in their paths would regret stepping up to the plate._

_He recalled one of them stepping up to an injured wendigo, its horns mangled among a sizzling net, and promptly placing a boot on the creature’s veined face. It squirmed as pressure was added, and shrieked when a horn was snapped right off its being. “You like that, huh? That’s what pain feels like, bud.” The drawl, muffled by the mask, was deep and malicious, and the wendigo whimpered. Each wriggle made the flaming rope cut into its oversized clothes, painting sleek red ribbons among its body._

_It hissed something out, voice garbled as it choked on its own blood, and Alex recalled making himself smaller behind the picnic table, heart racing. He was sure the creature could hear him take every single breath he made, and the prey-mentality within him hoped he wasn’t doomed. The logic, laced with well-placed fear, triumphed with the presence of the Unit. They’d take the creature away, and then the place would be safe, as per the Tome’s words._

_He’d be safe. “Well, you won’t be seeing anyone for the time being.” The person sneered, and motioned at another, who immediately walked forward. Alexander squinted to see what they held in their hands, only for something to fly in a high arc. A flash of light, and the screams that followed, made a breath get caught in his throat._

_Wendigo. Extermination procedure: Death by flame._

_The creature let out a guttural cry, only for the boot that held its head down to slam into its chin. A crack was heard over the burning and thrashing and a whimper followed soon after. Flames licked at decayed skin, peeling lit off until it reached grey bone, the stench of carrion already filling the air. Alexander had choked on the scent, eyes watering at the sheer strength, before his eyes tore away from the scene. He had felt far too hot, veins coursing with a phantom pain, and he recalled clutching at his side as he shuffled back, eyes returning to the gruesome scene in front of him._

_The Unit members hadn’t moved a muscle: Impassive, uncaring._

_The wendigo died with pain, and Alexander refused to leave after curfew ever since._

Then again, he was still nestled in the library. He didn't have to leave.

 _Screw curfew,_ his mind scoffed at the idea, while his eyes trailed over a clock on the wall. 22:45. _It isn’t the first time you’ve stayed here, and you’ve got a granola bar in your bag. I’m sure the vending machine will be functioning for something to drink…_

Alexander let out a sigh, eyes darting to the phone on his notes, and pondered quietly. He could leave right now and still get to his apartment before he got caught, but he could stay here and finish and not waste time. It was a simple choice, honestly, and one small slip up wouldn’t hurt his sleep that much. Besides, he never fell asleep the instant he got home, and Aaron knew that.

“Humph…One night won’t hurt.” Glasses slipping down his face, the student scoffed, and slipped the phone under his notes. He’d apologise tomorrow, if needed, but he had work to do.

There was always some work to be done in his world.

* * *

 

Alexander got in five extra pages before he felt his eyes start straining, and he took off his glasses, a palm rubbing circles around his eyes. The room had since been evacuated after the 15-minute curfew announcement had rung, but Alexander had stayed put. Honestly, spending a night among books was not that big of a deal.

Stifling a yawn, the man looked about and sighed, before he felt his stomach rumble. _Ignore it, it’ll pass soon._ His mind immediately formed the prescribed answer, and Alex bushed it off soon after. Now, he’d already broken one part of the compromise…he could, at least, stay hydrated and a tad less famished. He wouldn’t call it guilt though; that was not part of any compromise.

Getting up from his seat, the student weaved through the cubicles until he reached the entrance, nodding at the night-shift librarian and going towards one of the hallway entrances. If he recalled right, then a dual vending machine was just down the hall. His footsteps fell in line with his breathing, and the lack of people made each step louder. Ironically, the whole area felt far more claustrophobic; it was as if he was being watched.

He sighed, eyes catching the red of a camera light, before smiling at the mere thought. Unnecessary paranoia. He was safer within these halls than outside, that’s for sure. No one would dare try and do anything to him when he was-

“You’re late.” Alexander jumped at the voice, practically booming through the hall, and was met with an exasperated Burnes. He seemed out of place near the brightly coloured sweets in the vending machine, with the greyscale outfit, but he leaned against the side with crossed arms and a raised eyebrow. Disappointment painted his features, despite the amused half-smile. _The man should smile more, it suits him._ “Or you’re early for your class tomorrow. Honestly, it’s a toss-up. Heads or tails?”

“Motherfu- I would have preferred a heads up before you almost sent me to meet my maker.” Annoyance rushing past the embarrassment, Alex produced a choice finger and scowled, ignoring the shift of weight from the machine as he worked it. Selecting a spicy packet of doritos, he watched the spring wind and the purchase drop.  “Besides…You’re here too.”

“Well, I was going to ask if we were leaving the place together, but it seems you didn’t read my texts.” Aaron said pointedly, sighing softly but keeping a respectable hold of himself. Alex, scoffing, turned and walked off, barely letting the other fall in step beside him. “So I presumed the worst case scenario, and it seems I’m right.”

“Hah, good job; have a cancerous corn chip.”

“Alexander.”

An exasperated sigh left Alex’s lips with a whine, and he whipped around with folded arms. The chip packet swung wildly in his hand. “Aaron Burnes, sir.”

“…You need to sleep. It’s past three in the morning-“

“And you’re awake.”

“And probably more awake than you are right now.” The tone was pointed, and Aaron smiled in triumph when he saw Alex drop his arms. The small victory complemented his toothless grin. “Now, you can use one of the couches in the larger study rooms, but you’re at least going to sleep three hours, okay?”

Alexander huffed, stopping abruptly and facing his adversary. They stared each other down, eyes almost level with each other, before the steely silence was broken by a small grumble.

Aaron laughed, and continued walking.

“It’d take the world’s armies to hold you down, Alexander.”

* * *

 

 

Alexander Hadley hated sleep.

Now, he knew it had its benefits when one tallied up its uses, but overall it was an uncomfortable experience. Everyone knew sleeping sometimes resulted in dreams – simple synapses of the brain painting odd scenarios as one slept, which few remembered in entirety – or perhaps nightmares that plagued one’s mind in living and in slumber. Alexander hated sleeping for exactly that: Dreams were human, what he had was not.

It’d never seemed to go away, no matter how many on-the-counter medication prescriptions he used, no matter how many shady doctors he’d visited and no matter how many sleeping pills he consumed. Hell, it only seemed to make him dream deeper, trapped in the cage of sleep as visions tormented his soul. They never seemed to be coherent, but they were linked. He knew that too well, with the muffled names and blurred images swirling around his head, trapping him in fear. This wasn’t the nightmares people were supposed to have; no, these were the stuff of a tainted soul.

The Tome had stated that one could locate a monster by how it thought, and subsequently dreams were taken into account. When the first reincarnate revealed himself in the fateful uprising of 1890, human kind decided to hunt down anyone with such a gift, and visions became a stark indicator. One was never supposed to remember their past life, unless they somehow dabbled in arcane magic, so reincarnates were instant monsters in existence. You got one life to live, they’d say, and that was that: A singular soul. Untainted. Human.

That’s why, when Burnes somehow produced a blanket from under the reading couch, Alex frowned, head lifting from the arm of the couch. “You prepared for this?”

Aaron ignored the statement, and dropped the blanket on the curled up form.  Instead, he went to sit in an armchair with a book, face illuminated by a table lamp. A hand reached into the Dorito bag, and pulled out another corn chip. “Just sleep, you’re burning night-time.”

A huff was heard, then silence.

Alexander willed himself to stay awake.

They say one usually sleeps within the first seven minutes of calming down, but he could have sworn he slept in twenty; the occasional humming of his companion was his only lullaby.

* * *

 

 

_The sky was yellow, Alex marvelled._

_Not like the aesthetically pleasing hues of an instagram photographer, though. This sky held the hue of urine, draping across the sea like the heavens were fearful of what’s to come. The clouds, thick and bulbous, started to block the sheen with grey and black, unrelenting. It was quiet, too quiet, and the air seemed to crush the sound out of everything. Alexander did not know where he was, but he knew at the same time. He tried to move, to get the sand out of his toes, but he stayed still; his arms were pinned in place, heavy because of some unseen force. There was sand between his toes, salt stuck in his throat, water clinging to his body. He was trapped._

_But he was dry, oh was he dry._

_Staring out into the ocean, pulling and pushing with a strong tide, Alexander caught the beginning of thunder, eyes widening in fear. In the distance, something grey started advancing, bringing the trails of wind to whip in his face. At first it tugged, lovingly like a mother's embrace, but then it stopped, slapping across his face with a vigor that seemed too unnatural. Unnatural. A hiss of anger, a promise of destruction, the wind blew over his being and knocked him backwards. He spluttered, breath catching. Help! The words choked on sea water as the thunder drowned out his fall, and Alexander felt himself get taken up by water and air and sky and sea and-_

_Help! He tried again, his eyes on fire as lightning coursed through his veins, thrumming with power despite his frantic panic. The elements crowded around him, dark and light and oh so there. Just out of reach but right there, they crushed him in its fatal hug. Unrelenting. Unnatural. He screamed, and the birds of death responded; no, they weren't birds. They were bigger, badder...Unnatural. Slowly but surely, the light diminished from his sight - a welcome blanket over his fear – and Alexander let the hurricane consume him._

_But it didn’t; it’s cruel grasp welcomed him like an old friend, flowed within him, deposited him on the shore among the dead, and left him shivering on the sand. The bodies, waterlogged, were getting claimed by the sea, and they all seemed like a sacrifice._

_It was his fault, and that was the price he paid. Their lives were better dead, but him? No, the storm whispered, not yet._

_They wouldn’t let him die. They wouldn’t let him die. They wouldn’t let him die. They wouldn’t let him die._

_Alexander screamed._

_The grip returned._

_“I’ve got you.” The voice seemed to come from the heavens, distorted just like any other voice he’d heard, and Alexander whimpered at the empathy that flowed with it. His body, twitching with the remains of the storm, felt something phantom wrap around him, warming what the storm had taken. It was calmer, and the sky seemed to be changing hue._

_No. He whimpered, voice drowning in thunder. It was his fault. It was his fault. It was his fault. It was his fault. He will die. He can’t die. He will die. He can’t die._

_“I won’t let you die.” The voice whispered, and salt fell on his lips. Alexander felt himself cough. “Not again. Not on my watch…” The words felt so sincere, and Alexander sobbed, curling into the embrace for comfort. It felt safe._

_It felt right._

_“Just sleep.” The voice said, and Alex swore that he saw the sun._

* * *

 

Alexander woke up to Aaron curled up around him, the two somehow having slept manoeuvred into an upright position on the couch, and his head being placed in the crook of the other’s neck. The embrace was lukewarm, which was probably due to Aaron having no blanket around him, but Alex couldn’t help but blush from his position. This was far too comfortable to be legal, and the swelling in his heart – and potential nether regions – warranted for quick action.

He tried to move, only for the grip to tighten into a pleasing hold. “Dammit.” The whisper, holding every piece of self-control he could find, stopped him from pushing back immediately. It seemed that Burnes was a heavier sleeper than he thought, which made sense, and that was disastrous for the blush on his cheek. The stubborn side of him screamed for release, threatening to push away from the hold, but an inkling kept him there, one which he’d never admit. Besides, this was innocent; unlike the tainted form he carried within him. If Aaron knew, then he’d never do this again-

_No._

_Not that there would be another time._

Heart breaking, Alexander placed his head back where it belonged.

For now.

He woke up to an empty couch, a buzzing alarm, the door to the private room closed, and a new bag of Doritos on the nearest table. Aaron had probably woken up and left before things got awkward, and now Alex was left alone…  
On a couch couples had probably fucked on.

“Great.” Checking the time with broken pride and a sigh, Alexander went back to work.

* * *

 

Aaron Burnes was avoiding him. He could feel it.

He started feeling it when the man didn’t acknowledge him when he snuck into one of the lectures he assisted, nor did he bat an eye at any inside jokes laced into his debates. Aaron hadn’t visited The Owl in a week, and Alex had resorted to visiting very other coffee shop in the vicinity in hopes of catching him in the act.

All attempts had seemed to fail. Now, he’d thought of cornering him near the offices of his senior lecturers, but that warranted more chaos than closure. If an argument were to break out – and with his track record, it was sure to happen – then both would be scrutinized. Alexander may have valued this rocky friendship, but his legacy…his scholarship…

He recalled shaking the thought off, something constricting across his chest, and walking back to the library. Having spent the afternoon near one of Burnes’ other haunts, he had decided to get some well-earned writing done far away from scrutiny. His sleeping patterns had been stellar for the last week, especially after the last time he’d spent the night in the library, so why not be confident that he could leave before history repeated itself?

 _Probably due to history being a bitch._ The thought crossed his mind as the night sky rose above him, leaves swaying as he walked towards a confirmed taxi location. Alexander could practically feel his wallet crying with the notion of using a cab, but any other public transport would be long gone at this point in time. He did, however, minimize the driving distance by walking closer to his home than necessary, so that saved a dollar or two.

It didn’t save his sanity; every thump took at least a minute of his lifespan.

The city never looked right at night, he mused. Every building towered above him like a tombstone, making the streets constrict in various shades of black and yellow. _Black and yellow._ Alexander shivered, pulling his hoodie over his face as he walked faster. The colours never felt right these days. The storm had been tormenting his dreams for weeks.

The thought shattered. “Hey! You!” A voice carved through the silence, and Alexander felt the fear settle in. Against better judgment, he froze for what felt like years. Somewhat triumphant, the voice held a growl, predatory.  “Yeah, you there! C’mere little one…”

The grip loosened; Alexander heard laughter as he broke into a sprint.

Blacks blurred into yellows, which blurred into greys, but the feeling of being chased never seemed to leave his sight. He skirted past a corner, brief illuminated by a street light, and continued pelting down the street, lungs on fire. There wasn’t another being in sight, and with every faulting step, his mind screamed for a solution. _Run, or hide? Or stop? Or die? You can’t die. You can’t die! You can’t-_

Like magic, a hand gripped at his hoodie, choking him as it yanked back, and Alexander felt the wind get torn from his lungs as the world blurred. For a moment, he was flying, free, air passing through his ears, before he landed with a thud on the floor; pain welled from his side, and he let out a whimper. Stunned and fallen. “Ain’t so fast now, eh? You’re lucky I didn’t break y’leg.” The growl was too close to his ear, iron scented, and Alexander shuffled forwards. “You’d be a hoppin’ duck, yessir. Good thing I’m nice, right boys?” The chuckle that followed held the intent, but the eyes…Oh the eyes. Alexander didn't have to look behind him to confirm.

Rabid. Canine. The eyes of a wolf.

The two sets slunk out from the shadows, fur matted around their necks and face, their faces twisted in predatory grins. Their clothing, drenched in muck from wherever they crawled out of, dripped at odd intervals, yet they stood at attention. Human, yet wolfish, they leaned forward with smacking lips. Alexander tried to move back, only for a hand to grip on the back of his hoodie and pull back anyway. He stumbled, yelping. “Play nice, young ‘un.” The leader’s voice seemed to crane forward once more. “Don’t want you to get hurt- shhh.”

“Now...You’re a pretty young ‘un. Why you out when there are big bad beasties out here to take advantage of you…Tut tut.” Alexander felt himself start shivering at the claw curling around his ear, stroking calmly. "Nothing is safe at night, kid."

His breath hitched feebly, stunned.

“But not me, or me boys! Naw, I am a be-beneva- what’s the word? Ah, benevolent.” He seemed pleased with the word, especially when the others agreed with a curt grunt. The hand pulled out his hair elastic, weaving claws through the strands. “So…We’ll make this easy for you, eh? We’ll treat you right; you deserve some fun. The gods above and below have granted us this beautiful morsel for a reason boys, so don’t rough ‘im up!”

The hand in his hair tightened. “We’ll all feel good soon enough.” The other werewolves seemed to light up at the words, pushing and shoving for first pick, eyes dilating with happiness. It made his blood run cold, and his body freeze up. He felt useless.

He felt dead.

Alexander felt a tongue on his ear, rough and uncomfortable, and a clawed hand on his shoulder. “…Thank you for your flesh.” The voice whispered, and he gave into the pain. _Don’t scream. Don’t scream…Don’t scream-_

There was a scream-- No, the scream that followed wasn’t his, and the tongue retracted with a gush of wind. The air around him felt less claustrophobic, and he slackened with unforeseen grace. Opening his eyes at the sounds of growling, Alexander braved a glance behind him. He tensed.

The squirming werewolf was being held onto the wall, clawed hands straining, while a familiar figure bared insanely long teeth at him. “…Leave him alone.”

“Oh?” The leader spat, flicking saliva all over Burnes’ face. The droplets coloured his grey sweater a rusty brown, but he didn't seem to mind. “You think you can take on me and me boys? I can see you haven’t fed, kid. Too scared to bite a human huh? Disgrace! You’re as good as dead-“

With a movement that shouldn’t have been possible, Aaron had kept his grip and slammed the werewolf onto the floor, snapping bone. The werewolf howled, eyes flashing with anger. Its leg dangled uselessly. Alexander shuffled towards the wall, shock lacing his face, and hands shivering. A small trail of saliva was dangling from his ear. “Y-you-“

“Oh…” The words seemed to catch the attention of the leader, who stilled his thrashing. “If it's the kid he wants…Get our meal!” In the moment before hell broke loose, Aaron seemed to still, and Alex saw the two werewolves lunge with open mouths. "Tear him to ribbons!"

The blur that bowled into them came a blink later, followed by a howl.

A voice rang out from the whirlwind of fur, and Alexander responded in turn. It was pained, yet urgent, and held every emotion he could think of; it was powerful.

“Run!” It was unnatural.

Alexander stayed put, and shuffled into the corner, watching as the trio attempted to snap their jaws at a target too fast, cuts and bites appearing over their bodies like paint splatter. A snap, followed by a howl, brought the first lackey crashing into a wall; the impact and slide tearing cuts through the side of his face. The other, hesitating, flew into the street, landing head first and stilling. Crimson, welling amongst the bone, coated the asphalt.

The leader, bloody but standing, stepped back, and Alexander felt Burnes beside him before he saw him. The two, growling, stared each other down, both panting heavily. Unnatural. The werewolf, stepping forward, was met with a step by Aaron, and he backed away accordingly. “…This ain’t over, blood sucker.” He snarled, his teeth bloody. “Just you wait.”

“Stay away from my friends.” Alexander did a double take at the tone, something curling in his stomach, and he immediately stared at his proclaimed friend with interest. Despite the façade he’d assumed, Alexander immediately noticed the cracks between the cuts and scratches. Aaron had a nasty cut over his cheek, blood leaking weakly, and his hands curled into fists. “Or it’ll be over.”

The fangs, large and intimidating, extended with one last snarl, and the werewolf fled into the night.

Everything stilled.

By the time the adrenaline settled, the fear had risen. Alexander, unsure, backed away from the human – no, the vampire – and lifted his hands in weak defence. “You…You…”

“…I…Can explain.” However, the powerful figure seemed to slump at the words, leaning against the wall with a wheeze. Unnatural. A hand clutching at his shoulder, Alexander noticed that most of the blood had bled into that area. “I…I can.” Aaron tried to maintain eye contact, red swirling within his sclera, before he seemed to gasp for air. “Get…get…”

Alexander’s eyes widened as the vampire’s rolled back, and he couldn’t stop the collapse before it happened.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup, this will be my average chapter length from now on.  
> Come scream at me in the comments; and enjoy Spooky-month!


	4. A favour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw;; blood(and vampirism), flashbacks

_Aaron Burr could remember the look of blood like it was the sun: It seeped and flowed and fell delicately through clean puncture holes, yet it gushed and spat and bubbled through a larger wound…_

_Liquid life; a beauty and a curse._

_Take a gunshot wound, for instance. He recalled that image with a clarity he was shocked to have, and each bubble stretched into eternities in his eyes. Gone was the beauty of it all, replaced with the heavy dread that rooted him to the Weehawken grounds. It was the same dread that made him splutter out a wrecked “Wait!” as his eyes followed the enchanted bullet to its target. Right between the ribs, the blood sang, rejoicing its freedom as the source crumpled._

_Eyes glassy, coat stained. Liquid life drained from his eyes._

_He remembered the same dread making him stagger forward, pistol hitting the floor, and his eyes glazing with red. Anger, yes; anger at himself for not seeing the signs._

_A hand, or was it a claw, far more lighter, gripped at his shoulder and held him in place, screaming for sanity._

_“I…I need to—“_

_The weight felt unbearable. “You forfeited your chance to speak with him when that bullet hit his chest! Let’s go!”_

_“But…”_

_“Now!”  
For the first time, it seemed a vampire would stay away from the sight of blood._

_And that’s what he did: He got a drink, and disappeared from public eye soon after. The Schuyler duo had apparently shared his final moments, and he sobbed, alone, far away from their wrath. The dread morphed into a denser weight, draping grief over his features. The news spread like a gushing wound, dripping malice into mouths and minds, and he relished the solitude with a bitter tongue. The Hamilton-Burr duel, they said, painted history with an unforgiving quill, settling into the fabric of time. That was the price he paid. Jefferson, after giving up on locating him, moved on. They all moved on, it seemed.  
Somehow, his disappearance bought their silence._

_He paid for it; he wished he could pay more._

_When the Tome arrived mere months later, he had barely tasted a drop of blood. Once the slaughter started, he relearned how it looked like._

_The world may have taken too much from him; but it couldn’t take what the others had. And so he paid in blood, secretly diverting threads linked to old haunts. The names he couldn’t save, already inked in the book, gained a few more months of freedom, while the dismissed families lived a longer life. It was the least he could do. He’d made the Hamiltons partially orphans, he’d muse, worn and weary, it was the least he could do for a friend. An apology…A penance._

_It wasn’t enough; it was never enough. As he slumped against a dead conifer, liquid fire flowing within unnatural veins, he knew he’d never be able to replace the blood he spilled._

_History obliterated him, etched forever in the fabric of time._

_And then it didn’t._

_Aaron Burnes had a second chance, and a task that replaced the weight of guilt he felt centuries ago. The world had changed with his passing, yet things had never seemed to be for the better. At first, he’d grown up nestled within society like it was his purpose, but the memories lurched him back into a time that was unchained. A mind far less tamed._

_He was Aaron Burr, and history was not done with him yet._

_Thus begun the search for others like him, the fear of being alone and opposed trumping any other, and the formation of something dangerous. Something inside him stirred, swirling around his mind in a laugh: The Aaron Burr he knew would have detached himself from this._

_Too bad the man was already claimed by the history books: human.  
However, the pieces had started fusing when he’d found Alexander._

_It was shocking to see the man had not a clue what was happening, yet a relief all at once. Gone was the blood that spread across his chest, and in its place was a weathered hoodie and jeans. A silky ponytail and darker skin, big brown eyes and the same sharp tongue, that’s what he was made of now; it was endearing.  
The task still stood: he needed to remember._

_The nightmare took Aaron by surprise though, having wrecked through the sleeping man with the ferocity of reality. Watching Hamilton – Hadley – writhe on the couch with such painful whimpers made the decision obvious; one never knew how visions could destroy a mind until they had them, and the first one always had something traumatic._

_Regarding Alexander, he had seen enough meaningful death to last lifetimes, it seemed._

_When he felt Alex still in shock, only moments after he woke up, the boundaries were practically set in stone. Aaron didn’t cross them again._

_Until the night before._

“Hnng.” The ground beneath him felt too soft to be the alleyway, and it was confirmed when he rolled over. A pillow, smelling of cheap shampoo, had been placed under his head. Aaron felt his eyelids flutter, but not open, fatigue prohibiting any further motion. He felt weak, weak enough to curl up and die, but his mind had other ideas. Survival instinct among vampires was a force to be reckoned with; he knew what he needed to do before he lapsed into such a thing.

Blood. He needed blood.

Through the haze, Aaron sensed a movement behind him, body stilling as it was accompanied by a sound. A melodic thud came soon after, and he relaxed into the familiar heartbeat. Relieved. Alexander.

He released a breath, which turned into a pain filled cough. He was alive.

They were alive.

The coughs became violent as the realization hit.

Alexander Hadley was alive, and considering what he saw, Aaron Burnes was probably better off dead.

“Easy there…Don’t shift your bandages.” The whisper penetrated the haze, sounding far more soothing than possible. Aaron tried to open his eyes, and failed yet again. The lack of a decent feed was restricting his movements, now sluggish. Against better judgement, he cringed, eliciting a bitten off groan at the fiery sting at his shoulder. The soothing voice stuttered, and Aaron stilled, biting back a whimper. Weak. He was slowly dying.

“I don’t know what to do…I guess you know that?” The voice hiccupped, before the presence next to him retreated. “But I dragged you back here—we’re at my place, if you don’t know – and I took out the first aid kit my roommate left and just did some work. The blood wasn’t much, but the wounds aren’t closing…” A pause. “Vampires self-heal, right? I don’t know, but I think you’re too out of it to do that.”

Aaron attempted to groan something in reply, but his throat constricted, resulting in him curling into himself with a cry; his eyes, however, flew open and exposed red sclera at a frantic Hadley, darting around. Aaron caught the sight of a television, a small dining table, and the beginning of a kitchen, before his eyes shut at the onslaught of light. A hand cupped his face. “Shit! This is bad – erm, hold on – you need blood right? I-I don’t know, shit, I—“ The rise in tone made Aaron keen, ears oversensitive. For a moment, his head shifted, nose burying into Hadley’s wrist.

Alexander stilled, before he moved his hand away. The vampire’s nose, betrayed, followed the motion, and a feeling of dread fell over the room. Aaron missed the glaze of resignation that fell over his friend, too busy lapsing into a state. “…Of course. Burnes,” Alexander stood up, before sitting down in a more comfortable position, “If you can hear me, I’ve g-got an idea.” He gulped, before reaching out to still the withering head. “I don’t know if this’ll work, but you saved my life, alright? It’s…It’s the least I could do. Shh…” The words dissolved into a whisper, other hand shaking. “Just…be gentle. I’ve got you.”

The wrist was placed against quivering lips, and the reaction was instantaneous.

Alexander remembered what he’d been taught in middle school; how vampires fed messily and held no restraint. They pinned their victims down and sucked them dry, leaving husks in their place and bodies swirling with blood. Some, at the extreme, grabbed slaves to feed off of until dead. They were some of the oldest creatures, and the most secretive; sunlight and wooden stakes held no hold over them like in fiction. They were danger personified.

They weren’t nice.

When the fangs slid out and into skin, Alex closed his eyes, only for the brief pain he felt to slip into normality. Quiet slurps filled the room, and a blanket of bliss made him crack open an eye. It didn’t hurt, in fact, each pull just made him slump further into the couch. Alexander laughed, a breathy thing, as his eyes fluttered with amusement. What was everyone so afraid of? This had no pain whatsoever…It was beautiful. He felt so calm.

“Hmmm…” The sigh escaped his lips as he felt his wrist start numbing, but it was one of bliss; this was perfectly fine. He could stay like this for years. This was fine; the world was blurring into pleasant hues as the life left his body.

This was-

Alexander felt himself get pushed away, arm first, and a startled Burnes backing away. His eyes, losing the red gleam, looked healthier, yet there was a sickly glaze of shock. It was funny, apparently, because he felt himself giggle. “Aww…I liked it.”

“Fuck.” The vampire’s fangs retreated with the word, and he slid off the couch with a grunt. Kneeling near the drunken being, he cradled Alexander’s head in his hands, shaking quietly. “You stupid, stupid idiot.” The words were breathed out with anger, but the veil of shock pushed passed that. Alexander, confused, giggled once more, only to receive another shake. “You…You could have…You-“

“Died? I trust you...” The last word extended into a coo, before Alexander slumped into the floor. “My hero!”

The words only seemed to make Aaron’s hands shake harder, and he stepped back as they went to each other. Wringing together, the hands threatened to open already healing wounds. He wanted to scream, maybe hurl up something in his system, because this was not what he wanted. This is not what he wanted.

_Blood, that’s what he had needed…but not like this._

Never like this; he’d rather have died. Instead, he’d almost repeated history.  
Hamilton’s wrist still leaked the stuff: Liquid life.

A nail found its mark on his skin. “…I think I’m still the villain here.” The whisper, full of pain, fell upon weak ears, and Hamilton, high off the sedative that came with a bite, giggled.

Alexander giggled, once again directly at Death’s door.

 

* * *

~~~~  
It seems that vampire slaves probably got hangovers after being fed from, Alexander mused, waking up with a splitting headache and a dry mouth. All he remembered was the sharp sting on his wrist, before dissolving into the most lucid dream he’d had in his life. Was there an actual clown in his apartment? He’d never know.

Well, at least it wasn’t painful.

Groaning, he pushed himself up from the couch and looked around, seeing that the apartment had been cleaned up; the first air box was on top of the fridge, while the piling mugs at the sink were drying on the rack. That immediately put him on edge, making him spring off the couch and whip around.

Aaron Burnes, still clad in a blood-stained sweater, sat on the broad windowsill. The sun was going down, casting a light on the still form. For a moment, Alexander smiled at the lack of sparkling glitter; Twilight was, and forever will be, one of the most inaccurate things he’d watched.

Zoning back in, Alex felt the tug of a bandage on his wrist, and gaped. “…You’re okay.” He breathed, stilling. The two stared at each other with inquisitive expressions, as if they had both spoken the same words. Getting the memo, Alex continued. “I…feel better.”

“…You shouldn’t have done what you did.” Aaron’s gaze retracted first, staring at the floor instead, and a fist formed in his sweater. “I could have killed you.”

“But you didn’t…You saved me and I returned the favour.” Alex whispered, keeping his voice low in an attempt to calm him. One move could set this off, he knew, and he wasn’t about to be on the receiving end. That vampire was still a monster, and his brain had been taught enough.

“Don’t call it a favour. Nobody deserves that.”

The Tome, however, had some explaining to do. “Alright…Thank you anyway.” The breathless gratitude made Burnes’ eyes flicker upwards for a moment, and Alex produced a small smile. “That was…pretty cool—what you did there, that is.”

“I’m sad I didn’t get there sooner.” The mutter barely hit his ears, and Alex huffed.

“You got there, that’s all that mattered.”

The room fell into a healthy silence, questions hanging in the air. Alexander, mouth opening, kept the questions to himself; afraid of the reaction. For a moment, his hand shook.

“…Ask.” The shaking stopped as Aaron stood up, hands behind his back. Submissive, resolved. “You…Deserve to know.”

Alexander sucked in a breath. For a man who still had so much to hide before the incident, the request held a lot of weight. He had to be sure. “…Know what?”

The word opened the floodgates. “Everything.”

It took about ten minutes for the water to boil (“It’s a pretty old kettle.” “I know.”) and for coffee to be made (“Two sugars and some milk, like the weirdo you are.” “You literally drink bean juice.” “I’d chew the beans if I could.” “Huh.”), but the wait gave the two enough time to gather their wits. Human and monster: having a casual chat.

That was normal.

Alex opted for the couch, while Aaron walked over to the small armchair and sat down with a huff. It was hilarious, given the similarities of their last stint in the library, but it wasn’t brought up.

They sipped their coffee quietly, the clock reaching 18:00.

“So…You’re a monster.” Alex breathed, looking over his mug. Mentally, he cursed the very words he started with, especially the tone.

Aaron, however, nodded. “A vampire, yes. I’m sure we figured that out…I was born one.” Alexander sensed a lie in that statement, but truth all the same.

He didn’t pester. “So you hide among humans and—sorry if I come off as rude—feed off them? You don’t look like someone who kills them, but I don’t know anymore.” The words flowed. “Heck, at least I know why you talk less; those fangs are hard to hide-“

Aaron made a noise, and Alex looked up, spotting the man in a wordless laugh. Eyes twinkling, the vampire rolled his eyes as he calmed down. “…For someone who almost died, you’re still pretty talkative.”

“Well, ditto.” Alex shot back, grinning. “Maybe it’s my blood that gave you some actual spunk.”

Aaron stilled.

“No—I didn’t mean it like that—I know you really didn’t want me to do that and—“ Alex backtracked, eyes wide, standing up in defence.

Aaron, however, placed his mug down and looked away. “It’s fine…I just feel bad that you had to do that. Bloodlust is something I don’t like, and if I hadn’t realized when I did…” He trailed off, sighing. “Let’s just say the pleasure you felt would have turned into pain.”

“So that was not-“

“No, it wasn’t vampire venom.” Aaron sighed, “If I was far more gone, then you’d have been dead within the first minute. Survival overpowers logic in those stages, and that’s what the Tome calls Bloodlust. An uncontrollable thirst; vampires avoid it because we become reckless.”

“But the Tome says that as if that’s all vampires are—reckless, I mean.” Alexander pestered, leaning forward. “You weren’t like that at all, even if you were pretty gone—“

“Because the Tome is a lie. It has a lot of lies that are fed to a lot of weak-minded people.”

Alexander felt his pride flare. “How can it be—“

“That book has decimated families and slaughtered lives, without any need to because most of them lived without hurting humans. Why?” Aaron’s hiss made the other shut their mouth, shocked. “Why? Monsters risked their lives to fight for everyone’s independence and look what happened? Someone decided to slander names and kill everyone and—“

“Aaron.”

“Now this has happened and I’m sure you don’t care but I’m dead the moment whoever you called gets here. Getting your tiny bit of information before I’m hauled away and you’re deemed some type of hero, huh. There’s no rehabilitation for monsters, Alexander, they lie through their teeth. I’ll be put down like the rest of our kind like that damned book states—“

_Our kind._

“Aaron!” The snap made the vampire stop, fists uncurling, and look at Alexander, who seemed far too calm in such a situation. Alex leaned forward, sighing loudly. “…Do I look like I’m going to turn you in? Do I actually look like that? Really? Fuck, yes I’m scared, and I have every right to be, but I have a conscience beyond what I was taught. Yes, I’m sure there are bad monsters, but there are bad people too right?” The sentence made him pause, gathering his wits. “…I’m not afraid of you.”

“You should be—“

“But I’m not.” Standing up, Alex walked over and stared down at sceptical eyes. “I swear I’m just curious…You’re the first monster I’ve met and it’s obvious that you’re not one of the usual ones.” The freezing motion confirmed it. “…And you’re not at all like what that book says. Why?”

Aaron sighed, shifting in his seat. “…I could leave right now and you would not be able to stop me.”

“But you haven’t,” Alex stated, stance squaring. “And that means you want to talk.” Ever the lawyer, a classic cock of the head gave his amusement away. “So spill.”

The silence held annoyance…then a resolved sigh.

“…You’re going to hate me when this is over.” The words held a tinge of something Alex couldn’t place, but his heart tightened at it with no explanation. “I promise, you are.”

“…I won’t.”

“You will, but I can’t stop you once you’ve set your mind to it. You were non-stop, that’s what you are now, still.”

_Were._

“…Were?” Alexander felt his chest constrict at the words, feet feeling heavier. “…Your tenses are faulty.”

“I’m not faulty, and I’m sure you know the same.” Aaron Burnes shook his head, a pitiful laugh escaping his lips as if the world had said some sick joke, before meeting Alexander’s gaze with a small smile. It held none of the mirth they had shared only moments before. “Alexander, I’m going to need to call a friend.”

“…You said ‘our kind’ a few sentences back.” Alexander muttered. “And I thought you were just rambling.”

“I think you know…Deep, deep down…That I don’t ramble.” The whisper held something unspoken, and Alexander fell back into the couch at its weight.

“I know.”

  
The silence was full of unasked questions, but the answers stuck in coffee-stained throats.

* * *

  
“So…Your friend.” The apartment had gotten used to the extra body after a few hours, and it seemed that the brief clean up had added more spark to the bland walls. Alex, having teased Aaron for even attempting to clean up the place, had to be a tad grateful once he spotted his favourite mug among the dried dishes. He hadn’t seen the thing in weeks, if he was honest. Picking it up and placing it in a cupboard, he regarded the actual monster in his house. “He’s a monster as well…and I’m assuming he’s…”

_A reincarnate, like you. Like me, possibly. Unnatural._

“Maybe,” Aaron hummed, dusting the dining table, “Maybe.” The tone made Alexander huff.

“You’re insufferable. Is that why you smile more than speak?”

“Maybe—“

“Now you’re just annoying!”

Aaron laughed, placing the duster down and strolling to the kitchen. “Sorry, I just don’t like spilling other people’s secrets. It’s a monster taboo; you don’t do that.” Alexander huffed. “Once he’s here then he’ll set the scene.”

“You can’t even give me his name?” The question held the hint of another angry grumble, “Come on, the guy is probably bringing you a blood-bag full of human blood; I should at least have a name.”

Aaron caught the hint of a pout, and rubbed at his temple. Insufferable, indeed. “…Herc. His name is Herc—“

“Short for Hercules?” Alexander brightened a tad too much in fact, grinning. “Like the demigod? Is he a demigod? That’d be—“

“Maybe.”  
Aaron dodged a dishtowel being thrown at his face.

A knock on the door, an hour or so later, made the two look up from their cleaning, and Alex gestured shakily. Aaron, producing an encouraging smile, went over and opened the door. “Ah, thanks for coming…Sorry I missed our meeting.”

“No problem, but you need to feed better.” The voice was deep, and warm, which somehow matched the man who came through.

Alexander, true to nature, gawked at the obviously human man in front of him.

Herc—Hercules, probably—was pretty tall compared to the stature of the other two. Hell, Alexander mused, the man was probably the type to work out; the comfy sweater he wore masked that. A beanie fell over cropped hair, while dark eyes surveyed the room with interest. Warm, inviting.

Eerily familiar. “And is this your friend?”

The eyes settled on him, and Alexander picked his jaw off the floor. He stuttered out a reply. “Me? Yeah…That’s me. Blood donor #69—“

“Wow.” The man chuckled, while Aaron looked like he’d been shot. It didn’t suit him, Alex decided. A moment later, there was a crimson bag in the vampire’s hands. Burr, pleased, shut the door and bit into the bag with a trill gasp. “Then this is #70. O-positive, just what the doctor ordered.” Alex matched his smirked. “I’m Hercules Maguire…You must be—“

“Hadley.” A hand was extended, and shaken. “Alexander Hadley.”

Hercules froze mid-shake. “…You’re joking.”

“Huh? Why would I be joking—“

“Aaron…You sneaky mother—“

Aaron backed off; lips curled around the puncture holes in the bag. His eyes, flickering upwards, looked eerily innocent. He detached for a moment, sighing. “…Alexander, brace yourself.”

“You’re alive!”

“What do you mean—“ Hercules whooped, the handshake being pulled towards him. Alexander saw a blur of fur before he was enveloped in a giant embrace, huffing at the sudden pressure. Wriggling, he noticed the far more comfortable hold due to something soft enveloping him, and paused for a moment to look up at his hugger.

However, the beanie had long since disappeared, and two large ears, with long strands of black fur, had replaced it. Green eyes, lidded, looked down at him.  
It was a rabbit—a giant, green eyed, long furred "rabbit" that hugged him tight, green skin runes glowing just out of view. 

“…Wait…I think I may have overstepped my boundaries again.” A wriggle of a nose and a twitch of an ear completed the uneasy chuckle, but the hug stayed tight.  
Alexander Hadley was in the arms of one of the Tome’s most elusive creature.

“You’re a P-P-P…Pooka.”

"Púca." Hercules laughed. “Whoops.”

Burnes sighed over his meal, eyes rolling.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Púca-Boy Herc yes I love.  
> And yes, I may be taking advantage of my brief week-holiday.


	5. A recollection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw;; nothing

A vampire, insomniac and púca walk into a bar.

Well, Alexander thought, a bar would have been a far more plausible venue. After meeting the floor when the púca dropped him, it took another two minutes to gain his voice back, and another five to stop gaping at the giant, bipedal rabbit in his apartment. It towered over him, ears and all, with long strands of fur cascading all over its body. The black fur, hiding glowing green markings underneath; it parted where its face started, showed large, glowing green eyes and generic rabbit-like features. When Alexander realized that he was getting lost in the swirling abyss, he diverted his eyes to the floor, muttering a shaky apology. “Ah…That wasn’t very n-nice. Sorry Hercules.”

The púca almost seemed to smile, an ear twitching, and Alexander heard him speak. ‘You don’t have to be so embarrassed. And it’s Herc amongst friends.’

He froze, eyes wide, and turned back to the amused face of the sprite-creature. The voice hadn’t left the rabbit’s mouth, yet it rang clear in everyone’s head. Telepathy, of course.

Alexander casted an inquiring glance at Aaron (who had the widest grin over his small suckles) and sighed softly. “…I’m not sure if you’re trying to kill me or drive me insane…because this is insane.”

There was a sleek sound of fangs detaching. “Well, we’re just getting started. And you did say you wanted to go down the—“

‘Don’t you dare say it.’ The rabbit seemed to frown.

“The rabbit hole.”

The púca huffed, and walked over to the couch, flopping down in a whirlwind of fur. The moment it hit the fabric, Hercules had taken its place, and Alexander visibly relaxed at the sudden change. “You are the worst, Burnes.” Rolling his eyes, the man made himself comfortable. “Are you sure that strain of blood isn’t some type of alcohol?”

“If it was…I’d not have allowed you near it.” Aaron pressed a finger to the puncture holes of the bag, and went to sit down with his friend. Alexander, feeling left out, sat opposite them on the armchair, keeping his mouth shut as the two bickered. It took a moment before they noticed his silence, and stopped talking accordingly.  
Red was staining Aaron's fingers slightly. It was quiet.

A vampire, púca and crazy-person sit in an apartment…

"So, what…” Alexander cleared his throat, eyes darting between the two. Hand clasping together – and thumbs interchanging – he watched the literal monsters with a hint of wariness. The fear had settled in, reflected tenfold in his mind by the burning wendigo and the teachings he’d heard. _You are not safe,_ the words echoed, _these creatures will hurt you. They will hurt you they will kill you they will kill you they don’t trust you..._

_But they know too much.  
You need to know too._

Alexander ducked his head, shuddering. “Sorry. I just don't — I just — Is it bad that I’m a little bit scared of this?” Laughing softly, his thumbs changed positions again, a nail digging into flesh. “Like, I want to know what this is, but at the same time I’m—“ He trailed off, groaning at the floor. It was at that very moment that he noticed his shoulders were shaking. “This is insane.”

Across, Aaron cast a glance at Hercules, who was teetering on the edge of going over or staying back. The glance turned into a small conversation, which ended with Herc looking away in anger. He wanted to go give the kid a hug, and bear his soul with everything he knew, but Alexander didn’t know anything yet. He couldn’t remember just who he was talking to, and he wouldn’t for a long time if they did it right. They’d done it before, and it never seemed to get old.

It was unfair.

Aaron seemed to agree, albeit quietly. “It’s okay…You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to.” He offered quietly.

“The thing is—“ Alexander shook his head, hands fiddling. They seemed to have a motion: left thumb right thumb, left thumb right thumb…

“You're scared.” Alexander looked up into warm eyes, and Hercules smiled softly. “If Aaron called me here, then it's because you're not sure what's right with you yet.”

“You mean ‘wrong’.” Alex responded, huffing. “I'm Alexander Hadley...not whoever those d-dreams are talking about.”

“Why can't you be both?” The man offered softly, tilting a head. “You don't have to live the life you had before. That's why people don't remember immediately; you're given a choice to seek out why you were brought back or not at all.”

“...But—Nevermind.” Alex gritted his teeth, seeing the two straighten slightly; a tad too knowing, yet willing to listen. Oh, how Alexander wanted to talk. “...What if I'm...The Tome says—”

 _‘Oh for all that is good and Holy!’_  Alex barely registered the mental sigh of exasperation before the armchair dipped, and Hercules wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “Do you really still think we're all that bad? Hell, do you think any of the higher ups in the world follow the Tome like religion? No? Then why do you think that you'll go bad because of being a mon—”

Alexander wriggled away, shooting the amused man a incredulous look. “Because that's how the world fucking works! People like you get killed and skinned, even if you're nice. You're not natural!" Herc flinched beside him. "I'm not natural! I…” He froze, looking at Aaron. “I'm going to die.”

“...You've died before, and you're still here.” The words came out in a hushed tone, but they held weight. Alex felt them weave around his chest, pressing inwards. “Whatever you died for must not have been your purpose.”

The two stared each other down, extracting each other's intentions, and something clicked into place. Aaron watched as a hint of recognition flashed past the other’s eyes, before dying in a wave of doubt.

There was still a spark.

“...What did you come back for, then?” The words broke his focus on the fighting spark, and Aaron blinked a few times before mulling over the question. What was he back for?  
_What do you stand for?_ His mind sneered.

“A lot of things...I'm still looking.” He started after a long sigh, looking towards the window. “But if I can help fight a century long war, then maybe things will start to fall into place.”

“...A century old war?” Alex breathed, raising an eyebrow. “...There's a war on?”

Hercules nodded, giving his quiet seal of approval. “And there's a revolution, kid. Instead of a king, however, we have something way more powerful, yet skewed all the same…”

“You're saying that—”

“The Tome, kid. We're fighting against the Tome.” There was a brief pause, each man meeting the others’ eye searchingly, and Alex seemed to have the most decked out map. A light seemed to shine in his eyes among the concern, yet his bandaged hand curled into a fist.

“So...If I am a monster...And this Tome—The very thing that holds this country in place—is wrong, then how does one change that? You can't do it alone…”

“That's why you have a team.” Aaron murmured. “Especially a team that knows what happened, Alex.”

Hercules coughed, hiding a chuckle. “Let's just say that you're not alone; if you really want to get things done, then you're never alone.” He looked away just as Alex regarded him questionably. “We wouldn't mind an extra hand.”

“...Why me?” The words cracked a little at the end, and Alex ignored the whispers in his mind. “...You...You all knew me, didn't you?”

“If you want to remember then you do it by yourself.” They didn't budge, and Alex wanted to scream. “But you deserve to know, even if that fucking book doesn't want you to know anything.”

Alex put his head in his hands, taking a shaky breath, and stayed like that for what seemed like years, before he straightened. Delicately, he walked past the armchair to the kitchen, and shook his head as he picked his favourite mug out of the cupboard.

Might as well make another cup for his new guest. He breathed again.  
“Then tell me what I'm supposed to know, even if it's not the full thing.”

There was the sound of relieved exhales.

“Where would you like to begin?” Aaron murmured.

“...At the beginning.”

* * *

 

“A vampire, a púca and an inquisitive human(?) sit around with a cup of coffee; the sun sets behind closed curtains.”

“Bet the Tome hadn't heard that joke before.”

“Must be a new one.”

“Hah.”

They sipped silently, letting the silence permeate around the room. Alex, tapping his foot on the carpet, sighed softly. “Who’s gonna start?”

The two exchanged looks, and Herc placed his cup down. “Can we skip to the punchline?”

“If your purpose is not to make me laugh, then go ahead.” Alex replied.

And so he started. “Well, after that Tome dropped into existence, monsterkind has gone to hell and back. Especially with the initial hunts, because most of the names in that book held so much respect in our society that...well, seeing them die by human hands was a shock. Then came the accusations: to this day, nobody knows who wrote that book, but they practically committed so many sins that they’re in hell. Humans love the guy, probably, but who says the guy was human? Fast-forward a couple hundred years and monsters are still angry.”

“That explains all the raids in the last decade.” Alexander offered softly. “Like in DC last year. So many people died...That didn’t solve anything.”

“It’s...complicated.” Aaron admitted, shaking his head. “On one hand, some of us want to fix things without violence, while most monsters think violence is the only answer.” He paused. “It’s insane how fractured the society is, and currently the extreme human-haters have majority; you met some of them, Alex.”

“Those werewolves?”

“A branch, biggest branch in the east coast.” Hercules muttered. “It’s practically a cult; if they find out you’re a reincarnate then you’re practically a menace. Something about ‘being a potential traitor’'. Pair that with them attacking units for fun, and you have the less aggressive of us being caught. Numbers help, but not like that.”

“So you all stay hidden?” Alex murmured. “Because those numbers could hurt you—”

“That and the Tome instilling all these curfews and pills and rules; you can’t do much in the day without sticking to the rules, and nighttime is risky as well with those guys running around, but we manage. We’ve been managing for a while now.” Aaron nodded, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “Humans focus so much on the big fish that they forget about the small, poisonous ones.”

Whatever he said managed to get Hercules excited, a grin forming. “Take the pills for example: Everyone is supposed to take them, so acting like you do is pretty easy. Of course, since they practically run on aura inhibitors, you just have to act soulless—”

“What the fuck.”

“Mhm.” Herc downed his coffee with a smile, and shook his head. “Humans hate the arcane but use it for their pills? I’m pretty sure half of that stuff eats at your soul anyway. Those pills make sure your soul is a husk, sucking out any chance of ascending to something greater, and keeping anything arcane intact. and that’s why I think the author is a human. This magic was used so that monsters could look human, and now it's this hypocrisy. Why would a monster want to lock up themselves forever?”

“Let’s not get into human-monster accusations, Herc,” Aaron snorted. “You’re messing with a Hadley, and that’s dangerous. He'll talk your ears off.” Alex smiled at the jibe, eyes rolling. “Either way, that’s just a look into what we’re up against on the inside. Outside, we have a whole human population, and an administration with the world’s most cutthroat president. Hell, his great-grandfather ordered the execution of the first reincarnate, so you can imagine trying to change his mind.”

“President Candor is a menace…” Herc mumbled. “Fucking twat, to be honest. If we could get him out of power, then that’d help, but you saw how DC ended up…”

 _So much blood. Too much black._  “...So what now? You can’t take DC if an actual cult couldn’t, so what’s the plan? Rallying forces when most are on the other team? You might have the experience…” Alex shook his head, sighing. “Doesn’t mean it’ll work again.”

The two shared a look, and Herc smiled. “...Alex, are you one hundred percent sure you want to get into this?”

Alex spluttered, leaning back. For a moment, staggered agreements flowed out of his mouth, before he paused and thought. It felt right: the whole situation felt so right, yet daunting at the same time. _You can’t seem to die. Find out why._ He stared ahead, watching a lighbulb flicker on and off; he’d need to replace it again. _Again and again, you’re stuck in place. Move forward, non-stop. Take a risk, dearie._

Alexander felt himself say yes.

“Well,” Hercules sighed, looking at Aaron. “You really think this is the right time?”

“Better late than never…” He replied, and the two looked back at the third. Aaron, smiling softly, looked away. “We might not have numbers, but we have the names...We just need to find some more and play the matyr route. That’s why you need to remember, Alexander. When you do...My work here is done and—” He faltered, grief crossing his features.

"Wait what?" 

Aaron stood up, something flashing in his gaze. The sudden movement disloged his blood bag, hands staining further. “We’ll keep in touch; stay safe and act oblivious.”

“Why are you saying that...Who are you? Whenever you get like this it's my fault. ” Alex followed suit, reaching out, only for a blur to signify Aaron's leave. The door shut with a bang, and Hercules winced. The current human was regarding him in concern, yet his eyes screamed with shock. “...What did we do?”

“...It’s not my place.” He sighed, getting up as well. A hand was placed on the other’s shoulder, and Herc squeezed gently. “...I’ll bet you ten dollars that you’ll figure out soon enough, and I can’t say it’ll be fine...Just stay safe, okay?”

“But—”

“Please.” The plea was heavy, and Alex ducked away from the hold, hands balling into fists. “Think about it?”

Alexander didn’t reply: even when he heard the door close, even when he went to wash the mugs…

Alex fell asleep on the couch, and he dreamed of a blurry night in a bar.

* * *

 

“So when are you—”

“Not now Alexander.” It'd been a little over a week, and it seemed that Burnes was back at his avoidance tactics. “After my lecture.”

“We both know you leave far too quickly for me to catch up.” Stride increasing, Alex rolled his eyes at the blatant dismissal. Having forgotten to get Hercules’ number before the fallout, Aaron had spent days staying out of his path.

Of course, the wait was excruciating, and the world seemed to echo that. After replacing that faulty bulb, Alex was quick to notice yet another acting up in his room. Frustrated, the man found himself in a hardware store to search for bulbs, only for the place to have a brief power outage. Honestly, it was insane. Why? The reasons piled up too quickly. “Am I a problem?”

Aaron turned a corner, head shaking. “Hadley, I think you need to calm down—”

“—Oh sure! You want me to be calm when you're treating me like a freaking child? I'm not that fragile, Burnes...Let me in!” Some people turned at the rise in voice, and Aaron growled at the sudden attention.

Jaw setting, the man grabbed at Alex’s sleeve and tugged him into his office, closing the door behind him. Before another word could be spoken, a hand was pressing Alex’s back to a wall, and their faces were inches apart. “Do you want to get yourself killed?”

Alexander huffed at the reddening eyes. “Well, maybe I'll ask those wolves to help; at least they want me there—”

“You're being reckless! Can't you wait for just one second and consider the life you have!” Aaron let go, hands flailing angrily, and stepped away. “...You don't have to do this.”

“Same as you, but you did it and are still doing it. I don't know what the hell I did to you in my past life—”

“Who gave you that idea?”

“But I'm fucking alive now, and I'm doing what I fucking want!” Alexander felt his voice rise to a shriek, and the sound of the power failing filled the room. In the distance, a scream was heard, and the two froze at the sound.  
Alex gaped, and Aaron went to lock the door.

The tense silence stayed for ten minutes, suffocating the room as voices rang outside. By the time the power went back on, Alex let out a sigh he didn't know he was holding, and uncurled his fists.

“...Was that—that was...me?” The whisper, fearful, made Burr stiffen. “Me?”

The staring continued, a battle of strength, and Burr looked away.

“...The Owl, curfew time...don't be late.” Opening the door, Alex felt himself be ushered out, the hand on his back shaking slightly. Out of fear? Now, that was the question. “You're right...I can't protect you when you're like this, but the others c-can.”

Alex felt the remorse in his voice, and rushed to fix it. “Aaron I—”

“Don't be late.”

* * *

 

The Night Owl had fee customers around closing time, and with October rolling in, the place was already receiving some of the nighttime chill. Alexander made sure he'd bundled up in his warmest hoodie in case the temperature dropped, and waited patiently under the dim light of the cafe.

It was about twenty minutes to curfew, and each second counted down with a hint of dread. Partially hidden by a tree, the man hoped he wasn't detected by anyone once the minutes passed by. Aaron hadn't messaged him at all, and Alex had walked the perimeter to look for him.  
Nothing.  
Was it colder, or was it just shivering?

Blowing into his hands, the man sighed softly, gazing into the campus with a timid gaze. He could just leave—run back to a life without fear—but whatever happened that morning was too big of a shock to let that happen. He'd never received such a reaction out of that, nor could he remember anything of that caliber, and that was...was…  
He shook it off. “What am I?”

Something cracked in a bush.

Alexander whirled around, eyes wide, and stumbled away from the bush on instinct. As if replying, the bush quivered slightly, and a black raven hopped out, beady eyes glistening. They stared each other down, still, until Alex whispered. “Herc?”

The raven, seemingly pleased, cawed softly, and took off.

Alexander followed with a smile.

  
The bird flew low, and stopped at periods to allow for rest, before taking Alex to a car parked in a secluded area. Without a care, the bird swooped into the open window and turned back into a man. Alex slowed to a walk as Hercules grinned from the driver’s seat. “Sorry about the silence; massive headache.”

Alex chickled softly, opening the passenger door and settling in; with that, the car set off into the city streets. Generic tunes played softly on the radio, and filled up the silence with ease. However, Alex could practically feel himself vibrating in his seat. Anxiety? Anticipation?

“I can hear you thinking, and I'm not even mind reading.” Herc murmured, a smirk on his lips. “Calm down, you’re only meeting my friends, who just happen to be monsters.”

“...And that's supposed to help?” Alex drawled back, earning a laugh. “I'm out of my depth.”

“Then swim deeper.” Herc offered, keeping his eyes on the road. “You've got the potential; just reach for it.”

“And you'd know that why?” Alex tried, pouting. “We've barely known each other for more than a day.”

“I may not know Alexander Hadley, but I know his friend.” The car turned into another street, and started to slow. Dashboard reading a few minutes to curfew, it switched off, and Hercules got out of the car. Alex, scrambling to follow, almost missed the “Take that as you will.” as he was more focused on the building in front of him.

Generic, brick-faced and downright inconspicuous, the apartment block looked like any other in its neighborhood. The area was relatively well kept, and it seemed safe enough, so when Hercules knocked on the door, Alex didn't expect a woman to answer the door.

_A beautiful, gorgeous woman, in fact._

“Herc, you’re back!” Alex watched as dark hair flew into the air, and the woman wrapped the man in a hug. Hercules chuckled, hugging back, and leaned away once she did. “Thought you'd be gone for the night?”

“Not that long, actually...Just had to do a pickup.” With those words, the woman finally noticed the extra person, head tilting in confusion. Alexander, giving a small wave, smiled, and she smiled back. “Eliza...This is Alexander.”

_Eliza. Familiar._

She froze, and the world seemed to choke for a moment too long. Alex spotted something akin to grief flash in her eyes, before he felt her wrap her arms around him. Startled, he hugged back, feeling a warmth he'd never felt in his life.  
It felt familar. “Nice to meet you, I'm Elizabeth...Call me whatever.”

“Likewise.” He murmured into her shoulder, practically melting into her smaller frame. Perfection, he thought quietly, is this what it is?

Hercules coughed, “We should get in. Is the boss home?”

“Not today; says he got sidetracked.” The hug ended once the words were uttered, and Alex leaned into the memory once she walked away. Cocking her head, the woman glided back up the stairs, and Alex had no choice but to follow her into the lobby. Nobody was there, which was obvious at this time of the night, so she walked to the elevator and pressed a button. Level five, it seemed.

“It's actually level twelve.” Hercules started, making Alex jump at the sudden noise. “Swopped the numbers around for safety.”

“It started off as a joke, really.” The elevator dinged and opened, allowing the trio to enter. Eliza waited for the doors to close. “Aaron always forgot, and James—Herc’s cousin, you'll meet him soon—threatened to leave if we didn’t switch them back. Then again, he has a pooka for a family member, so the threat was pretty hollow."

Alex laughed at Herc’s prideful grin. “I can imagine…”

“He's a sweetheart mostly, but his anger rivals most.” Hercules chuckled, “Like Eliza, and me to an extent. Violence isn't the answer until we're mad.”

“That's true...I don't think I'm allowed near any important paper after the last time.” Eliza chuckled, a melodic tone, once the elevator opened. The corridor lead to two doors, and one was shut. The other, opening to an apartment, was silent. “I got a tad fiery—”

“Fiery?” Alex echoed the statement as he stepped out, walking towards the open door. “That sounds like fun.”

“Not really...People either hate phoenixes or love ‘em.”

Phoenix. Rebirth.

“You're a what?!” Alex stilled, turned, and gaped at the nonchalance of the statement. However, seeing Eliza’s warm smile made him lose a bit of his shock. <i>How many times had she...</i> “...I thought those were extinct…”

"Apparently not." Eliza laughed, and grabbed his hand, slotting in like a puzzle piece. Alex noted this with a swell of happiness, and ducked his head shyly. “Well, if you're here, then we might as well get you reaquainted...You know what you are, even if it's small?”

“I'm...old?” Alex tried, sheepishly grinning. “I think? I cause power outages?”

Herc laughed softly in the distance, and Eliza joined in, though the latter sounded pained. _No, wistful._ With that, Alex found himself being steered away from the apartment, and towards the closed door.

When he got closer, the sounds of classical music leaked under the door; calming, and soothing. On occasion, Alex thought he heard the flutter of something far into the room, accompanying the music naturally, only for it to leave the moment it came.

It was soothing, and even more so when he remembered the beautiful woman next to him. “Well, old man.” She whispered, as if avoiding any disturbance of the peace. “Want to jog your memory?”

She squeezed his hand. Familiar.

Alexander squeezed back. “I'm ready.”

She knocked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> halla! so I'm thinking of creating a tumblr for extra tidbits/headcanons/stories in this universe, and I'll keep my askbox open for prompts! if this sounds cool, hmu!


	6. A tutorial

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw;; none

Alex expected the door to swing open, and a gigantic creature to decimate his soul, but the reaction was far more anticlimactic. The door stayed shut, and the classical music did not hitch at the harsh rap of knuckles. Eliza, frowning slightly, knocked again, and the same result occurred.

Nobody was home, it seemed.

They shared a look, pensive versus inquisitive, and turned as a unit to stare at Hercules, who shrugged in defeat. “If he’s not around, then he has already left. We’ll have to take the walkway and meet him there.”

Alex, making a face at the cryptic words, opened his mouth. “And where are we meeting this friend of yours? If he’s gone, then I’m sure we can wait until he gets back.” The two exchanged another look, and Alex groaned at the silence. “Can you stop doing that? I feel like I’m some child who doesn’t know what’s happening—which I am, but you didn’t hear that come out of my mouth.” With that, he folded his arms, dislodging Eliza’s hold.

They shared yet another look—stemmed from the request or just by habit—and Eliza nodded. “You’re right; perhaps you’d benefit from this little hiccup. Though,” she paused, rubbing the back of her neck sheepishly.  “It might be overwhelming; going to the haven for your first trip is not very safe.” Alex, albeit quietly, noticed her hair-tips flicker with a red light.

“He’ll have us.” Herc reminded her gently. “And I’m sure we won’t have to travel too deep into the place; James barely goes past that fawn joint.” With that, he moved past them and turned the doorknob, opening the door to the apartment.

It was cosy, to say the least, and looked relatively lived in. A forest green blanket was draped over a dark grey couch, which complemented the natural colours of the room. Against a brick-faced wall, pots with various plants hung from the ceiling, curling over their confines. Overall, Alex deduced that the occupant had a love for nature, and a need for a calming environment; indeed, the place had that effect, and he inhaled softly at the domestic atmosphere.

When the scent of lemongrass, weaving softly in his nostrils, hit, he almost did a double take, hoping that he’d see the source. “This is…Aaron’s room?”

There was a pause, and a cough.

“Not exactly, though he has been staying here for the last month or so.”  Eliza, shocked, regarded the question with interest. “It’s actually James’ room—Herc’s cousin—but the two were working on a case together and decided to hole up here. Honestly, nobody really knows where Burnes lives, but I know it’s probably similar.”

“Oh.” Alex ducked his head, and turned back to the room. He could still feel their eyes on him, and he squirmed under the gaze as he stepped in. Embarrassed, he kept his gaze off his companions, heart constricting at the very words. However, something within him wondered why he felt so guilty. _Was it the fact that Eliza answered? Or the fact that he practically remembered the vampire’s scent?_

He winced; whatever it was, he wanted to know. The explanation left his lips before he could stop them. “Smells like lemongrass, that’s all.” Almost immediately, he spotted a feather on the floor.

Alex crouched, peeling the object from the fluffy green carpet. A down feather, probably, as it was soft to the touch. It slid between his fingertips with a soft movement, twisting slightly, and Alex repeated this movement for a moment longer. His eyes, fascinated, watched the feather, and his mind whirred in confusion.

The feather, despite being as soft as it should, was as large as a feather used for quills; it was far larger than any bird he’d seen. Besides, it didn’t have the consistency or hue of an ostrich feather, with the latter causing far more questions than answers.

The feather was grey, a cloudy palette, with splotches of white leaking out from the interior. Owl-like in nature, yet completely abnormal, he’d deciphered. At first, the feather caught his attention because of the dark red hue it was splattered with, creating a pattern that mirrored its own, only for the light to reveal a dark purple. The feather looked stained in blood, but was actually quite the opposite. Like a bottle of sangria, the stains turned pinker in the light.

The world spun, and Alex sucked in a breath.

_Magenta._

_A swirl of fabric and a vicious smile flashed behind his eyelids as he blinked._

_He blinked again, and magenta bled into stormy blue feathers. A bird-call. Rain._

_Then it was gone._

Hercules was watching the introspection with interest, having slipped past the man to lean against a cupboard. Alex seemed so focused on the feather—which Herc smiled at—that by the time Eliza had made her way over to the cupboard, Alex had twisted the feather multiple times, eyes glossy. “Must be a pretty bird with feathers like this.” He grumbled, dropping the feather onto the floor.

“Tell James that; he never seems to hear that enough.” Eliza murmured, watching the feather spiral downwards. The words held little explanation, but Alexander didn’t seem to protest this time, and instead turned in a circle.

“Why are we here then, if James isn’t around? You said we’ll go find him, right?”

“Right.” Herc nodded, and knocked a hip on the cupboard. It didn’t budge at the force, but the doors swung open with a creak. “We’ll be taking the quickest route, though, for convenience.”

The cupboard hummed.

Alexander stared into a swirl of green, and it seemed to stare back; it was a sea of pure magic rotating within the cupboard.

Now, Alex had never seen magic up close; the few times he’d seen it was on the news, streams of multi-coloured light seeping into victims. Every instance always held the notion of danger, and a decree to stay far away from it. However, the lethality of the substance could not be found in what was in front of him; the light it emitted was ethereal, whilst it hummed softly with the music. Melodic, beautiful, it felt alive.

A hand reached forward, and it almost felt like he was being offered one in return, fingertips inching closer to the green.

_A warm welcome. Welcome home, Alex._

“Hold on there.” The feeling disconnected. Walking over with a smile, Eliza batted the hand away. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Alex. How do you feel? Scared?” Gently, he felt her own hand curl around his once more, and the two stared into the magical swirl. “I think you like it.”

_Welcome home, Alexander._

“I think I do.” Alex breathed out, eyes blinking heavily, and squeezed her hand. “What is it?”

“Magic, if we’re going to be broad about it.” Hercules, grinning, replied; as he passed the cupboard, the living light curled around his hand. “To be more intricate, it’s a basic teleportation spell. One of mine, actually, and it’s still going strong.” The magic thrummed at the contact, swirling haphazardly. “It’ll dissipate after this next trip, though, but the residue should be enough for a return link.”

“R-Residue?”

“We don’t have time for this right now.” Eliza interjected, pulling Alex forward before he could protest. The swirl of green jumped when they came closer, tugging harder on the air. “We can talk about magic another time, boys.”

“Alright alright,” Hercules relented softly, a chuckle escaping his lips, before he gently grasped Alex’s shoulder. “Crash course:  Hold your breath, keep your eyes closed and keep your hand in Eliza’s. Try not to think about anywhere except her hand. Magic listens to the wielder more than you think, and although this spell stems from me, I am not taking any chances.” With that, he let go, and dove into the cupboard. “Especially with a mind like yours!”

The portal barely shivered at the addition of weight, engulfing Hercules in green before neutralizing into its normal swirl. Alex gaped slightly at the fluidity of it all, shifting his weight nervously. _Taking chances?_

What if he did think slightly too much? Would the magic actually listen to him? He recalled the power outage at Aaron’s pseudo-office, stemming from a burst of anger on his part, and wondered if there was magic involved.

He didn’t notice his hand was shaking. Eliza waited for a moment, before tugging at her companion. “You got all of that?” The words were more sympathetic than he thought. “Don’t worry, it’ll be fine. Count of three, perhaps? Just keep your hand in mine; I promise…I have you.”

Alexander sucked in a breath, relaxing at the grounding feeling of those words, and squeezed her hand in reassurance. “And I, you.”

As Alex closed his eyes, he felt the universe swirl around him.

_Welcome home._

* * *

 

 It felt like flying, and the thought confused him.

Especially since Alexander Hadley had never been on a plane, yet the feeling of a hand in his brought him back to earth very quickly.

By the time he felt the ground beneath him again, making him tumble forward, the thought still clung to his skin. _Flying. It felt like flying. Nostalgic_

And then he felt his lungs give out; when did he breathe out again?

“Easy there!” A hand patted his back as he hunched over, hacking up green, and Hercules tutted softly. “You’re fine…Just let it all out.” After a moment too long, Alex started to cough out pure air, the taste of burning light leaving his system. The patting stopped. “That’s a good attempt!”

Alex shot him a look, and he backed off sheepishly.

Alexander took the brief pause to look around the damp area: a crossroad of sorts, resembling a tunnel system. However, the dampness didn’t seem to be caused by lack of upkeep, as the floors were polished, and lanterns seemed to hang from the ceiling.

It took a second to notice that each lantern had no chain.

“You okay, Alexander?” Alex let his head be tilted by other hands, and watched as a frantic Eliza surveyed him with concern. She was inches away from his face as she tilted him this way and that, palms holding gently onto his cheeks. He stilled, relaxed by the closeness, and she smiled softly. “You did well.”

“Th-thanks; I knew I could count on you.”  Spluttering softly, he responded, relishing the hold for a moment longer. It almost seemed like the other wanted the same thing, before Eliza ducked away with a slight blush. Alex, blushing slightly as well, turned to Herc with a small smile. “I’m alive.”

There was a slight flinch. “I’d hope so. You haven’t even seen the best part. That being said,” There was a shimmer in the atmosphere, and the man rolled his shoulders as two large ears materialized on his body. Subtle, yet sleek and efficient. They twitched, fur rustling, and stilled. “We’ve gotta look the part, even if it’s only a little.”

“You’re right.” Eliza backed off slightly, running a hand through her hair. “Haven is a nice place for creatures like us, but some monsters like seeing proof.” The laugh that followed was nervous, and Alex could not help but give a reassuring smile. “I…don’t do this often,” Eliza smiled back, and nodded. “But  I’m ready.” With those words, the world around her seemed to ignite.

Alexander gaped at the rise in temperature, and blinked away her radiance.

Eliza embraced the sun.

Feathers, burning from red to blue, draped themselves down her neck, rising slightly as she breathed out. Her hair, like burnt charcoal, was spitting light embers which dissolved in the wind; long plumes of feathers mixed among the black. Alex felt his eyes follow their journey, catching feathers peak out of her jacket, just as fiery as he’d imagine, and stop before scaled hands, avian.

_She was beautiful._

“Thank you.” Alex jumped at the words, meeting her eye as he realized he’d spoken out loud. Sheepishly muttering a rebuttal, he turned to the amused rabbit-man, who seemed to be enjoying himself. “…Can we go now?”

“Yes,” Eliza, echoing the sheepish mutter, agreed. “I’ll lead.” With that, she turned and walked down one of the tunnels, embers billowing into the air. Upon closer inspection, the tips of her hair ignited slightly with the movement.

Herc, shrugging, followed behind her, scratching at his wrist; a series of glowing green tattoos peaked out from under his own flannel.

 

* * *

 

Alexander, kicking his ego to the curb, scampered past the pooka, and situated himself between the two monsters just as the noises ahead got louder. Initially, they were murmurs, creating the soundtrack to the eerie tunnels, before the clatters of moving objects flooded into the symphony. A song of movement, playing in time with their steps, grew into an orchestra of light.

The light opened into a marketplace, tents rising high into carved rock, and colour flowed and swirled as monsters roamed the grounds. Alexander stopped in his tracks, overwhelmed, and simply shut down, mind reeling from the sheer information. The murmurs, he found, had some words mixed in, and the song became clearer as he swayed to the beat. An angry fish-lady demanding more for her wares, the laughter of werewolf pups racing past and the clang of a witch’s vials all seemed to work in tandem, creating a sound that almost lulled him to sleep.

He blinked, and caught a glimpse of a market much like the one he observed, yet entirely different. _Delicate hands sewing up scorched fabric, and the tease of a European lilt. A calm smile, and an offer to stay the night whispered quietly. A friendship formed, and a celebratory trip to a market._

_“You’ll be fine, Alexander.”_

Haven. _Welcome home._

“Alex…You’re crying.” Herc spoke up. Startled, the man reached up and wiped the tear away, stiffening at the sensation and looking away from the symphony. However, the pooka did not seem to mind. “Hey! Hey…it’s alright. We won’t tell anyone.”

There was a pause.

“It all just,” Alex breathed after a moment. “Feels familiar and I—I just want to know why?” Shaking his head, he felt himself grasp at his ponytail. “It feels so safe and I’m not afraid of it. Hell, I’m surrounded by monsters with little to no defence, but I’m not afraid. Any human would have turned tail and ran for the hills, but I don’t want to. I can’t see myself doing it; I can’t do it! Why can’t I just remember why?”

“…At least you’re accepting it.” A warm hand peeled his own off his hair, and Alex looked up into the phoenix’s eyes, calming instantly. Feathers brushed over his wrists, and left a warm sensation in their wake; reassuring, supporting. “It’s only a matter of time, Alex.”

“Sometimes...”

_Time that we do not have, dearie._

“I guess.” Alex exhaled heavily, moving his hands to slot slightly in her own, and silently asked for permission to hold onto her. The glance, forged only mere moments ago, seemed to have a set response already, and Alex felt his neck heat up at the emotion in her eyes. _Familiar._

“In fact, perhaps we can jog your memory quicker down here.” She whispered after a moment, tone hopeful. Alex couldn’t help but notice that she was just as eager as he was, and Hercules seemed to accept that. “Let’s go find James; maybe he has an idea.”

She smiled, a constant reassurance, and tugged lightly on Alex’s hand once again, walking into the flanked walkways. Alex didn’t find himself hesitating as he followed, slotting himself into her symphony with ease; his heart, skipping, swelled at the fluidity of it all, and clung onto the silent hope that had been presented to him.

Perhaps their symphonies were intertwined.

He closed his eyes briefly, and searched for the melody.

 

* * *

 

Alexander watched the monsters of Haven with interest, and came to a few conclusions:

One, the society had similar functions to those of humans, but the only difference seemed to be the aesthetic appearance. Since they had started walking, the man had not seen a glimmer of money being exchanged, yet he’d seen monsters exchange stones, vials are sometimes pieces of their fur or feathers. Hell, he noted, a witch had practically pulled out a string of magic from another in payment, locking the light in a jar. It was odd, to say the least, but interesting to watch.

Two, nobody had paid him any attention. If the roles had been reversed, Alex was sure people would be rioting at the sight of a monster. With all the different shapes and sizes around him, Alex couldn’t help but feel out of place, and thus be a little guilty at the mere fact. It was obvious that this wasn’t a place to accommodate every monster here, so where would the unlucky ones stay? Among humans, forced to hide in fear of getting slain? Ridiculed, and scorned for their appearance or habits, which were probably skewed by the Tome?

He shivered: Discrimination at its finest and he had experienced both sides.

“Hey Alex, we’re here!” Eliza started to slow, and Alexander followed suit, looking at the small blue tent with interest. The flaps were closed, and a quaint sign with indecipherable symbols arched over it. Upon the cobblestone floor, a welcome mat lay dormant, yet the picture etched onto it moved and waved them over.

Hercules, wrinkling his nose, excused himself from the group to fetch something from a stall, and Alex briefly wondered what he’d trade in return.

A motion caught his eye, and he turned back to the tent. The frog on the mat seemed to laugh at his curious expression, and Alex glared at it. “What the…”

 “Leave him alone; Archibald does that to all the new customers, and he’s one of the nicer ones.” Looking up at her amused gaze, Eliza continued to speak. “Enchanted objects are everywhere here; don’t buy anything without checking it out first, because there are tons of trickster merchants. Once, my sister came home with a clay horse that didn’t sit still. Don’t worry though, The Lily Pad refuses any ill intent within their doors—or should I say flaps?”

“That’s good to know.” He murmured, still eyeing the animated welcome mat with suspicion. The frog, glaring back, had stilled in its place as Eliza stepped on it. Alex winced at the sight, but followed suit, stepping as lightly as he could, just in case. The tent flap was wrenched open, and the interior made the man choke on air.

Despite the outside being a tent, the interior had the look of a modern coffee shop; an interior balcony housing a cascade of vines and plants. Flowers and leaves, in fact, littered the walls like it was a forest, while a small waterfall splashed in the far back near some submerged tables. Alexander, gaping, noticed an actual mermaid chatting up a harpy, tail raised in the air. Incense filled the air with a calm breath, and the hum of a song rose from an enchanted set of instruments nearby.

“Beautiful, right?” Eliza leaned up to whisper in his ear, the breath tickling his earlobe but not disturbing the peace. Her voice was low and soft, as if she was afraid that speaking any louder would ruin the scenario. “One of the best stores to buy plants; they’re all raised by nature-inclined monsters.” To prove her point, a hooved man raced past them, only to kneel at a wilting flower and caress it like one would comfort a child. The words, unintelligible, seemed to hold power, and Alex shivered when the plant seemed to grow a little straighter, inspired by the words uttered.

By the time he looked away, Eliza was scanning the room for her target, and spotted James not far from the aqua-tables. He was seated on one of the couches, alone, and paging through a book from the mini-library. A steaming mug was balanced on his lap, yet a small stain could be seen on his oversized sweater.

Surprisingly, their entrance had not seemed to alert the man, much to Eliza’s confusion. James Mason—or Madison, among the group—was a stickler when it came to noticing things, especially when it came to auras and souls. _I never forget a soul,_ he’d say softly when someone asked, _and I’ll spot them a mile away if need be. I’m not the best at it, but I’m aware._

He wasn’t now, she’d mused, which meant that the man was truly at ease. Tugging slightly, Eliza led her inquisitive companion to the couch, whispering a short plea to behave, and cleared her throat when they got close enough.

“James?”

James shot up, spine straightening, and stared at the two with wide eyes. The sudden movement knocked a few drops of tea onto the couch fabric, while his face contorted into a series of coughs.

Eliza blanched. “Oh! Sorry James—I thought you’d heard us coming!”

“It’s—“ Cough. “F—“ Cough cough. “Fi—“

“Fine?” Alex queried, jaw set with concern, and the other man nodded.

It took another minute for the coughs to die down, and Eliza reached forward to retrieve the mug before it did more damage. While this was happening, Alex took some time to observe the man in from of him. While the notion that he was Hercules’ cousin was valid, Alex would have pinned them as brothers at least; the resemblance was uncanny—with the same dark cocoa skin and eyes—yet he noticed the differences as quickly as the similarities. James was far smaller—sickly, yet still intimidating enough to cause damage, but he didn’t seem to exude the spontaneity his cousin had. His eyes held a calmer air, and looked older than he seemed, an endless game of chess playing in his mind. No, the man in front of him knew what he was doing like Herc, but played on a far different chess board.

It reminded Alex of himself, to an extent. _No wonder Burr likes him._

However, the confusion that followed was stemming from another question, especially once Alex had finished his quick impression; James had no hint of anything unnatural. His sweater may have been hiding something, but it seemed highly unlikely. He looked human through and through, and Alex couldn’t help but be on edge.

How did he get through Haven looking like a defenceless human?

“So…Who is this?” The man murmured, scooting over so that Eliza could sit. Alex, by proxy, followed suit, sitting on her other side as James continued. “A friend? I can’t pin his aura down…” Curiosity bled ever so slightly through the words, yet Alex spotted that the cool demeanour stayed sharp. Impressive.

“Even better.” Eliza whispered, eyebrow rising. “Alexander, meet James Mason.  James, this is Alexander Hadley.”

“Oh…” Alexander saw shock flow through a level gaze, only to be enclosed soon after. James, smiling softly, offered a hand. “Nice to meet you, Alexander.”

“Likewise,” He shook the hand, frowning slightly. “Though I’m a hundred per cent sure we’ve met before—“

“Oh?”

“Well, you had that face—the one where you look a little shocked—and the others had that face as well, so you don’t have to act all sneaky around me when I somewhat know.” The words flowed out. “Besides, I’m not a child, and you’re not one either, so dropping the annoyance on both parts will likely ease this thing we may have. That’s work, right? You don’t look like someone who exposes other’s secrets unless necessary, looking at your current stat, so I rest my case.”

The duo was silent as he rambled, and Alex shut his mouth once he realized. Backtracking, the man sheepishly looked away from James’ curious gaze, and muttered something. James, however, laughed softly, a hand running through shortened hair. “It’s all good, Alexander.” Voice light, a small cough punctuated his words. “No harm done, and I somewhat agree with the word vomit. ”

Alex wrinkled his nose as Eliza hid a giggle. “Thanks…I guess?”

“No problem.” The reply was curt, and Alex watched as James retrieved his mug from Eliza’s hands. Taking a long sip, he exhaled happily once he was done, and turned to the others with interest. “So, if we’re still on new-name-basis, then Alex doesn’t remember?”

Reluctantly, Alex nodded in agreement. “I…See glimpses, but I can’t pin them down.”

“I see.” James took another sip. “Remembering is the hardest thing, but you’ll get there. Luckily for you, you have us, so finding out will be easier. Of course, forcing the revelation on you is non-negotiable, because it has to be natural…So until you figure it out, you’re in the dark about the rest of us, okay?” The explanation was punctuated with a small smile, pained. “However, I look forward to meeting you again when you do remember…It’s complicated.”

Alex nodded slowly, refusing to acknowledge the guilt in those eyes. _What happened?_

“Anyway, I’m sure we can get to know each other for the time being; it’s approaching midnight above us and I’m far too comfortable to leave. Tea?”  James concluded, lifting his mug to his lips.

“Coffee. The most caffeinated they’ve got.” Alex replied, and Eliza nodded.

A moment later, a series of vines brought two steaming mugs over, while a frog hopped onto the table with spoons and sugar tied to their back.

James laughed slightly at the face Alexander made, and the fact that the man had launched away from the creatures. _For a man who had just found monsters,_ he mused, _he still had some spontaneous quirks._

Discreetly, a down feather floated out from behind his back.

 

* * *

 

“So, how is he?”

Far away from The Lily pad, Aaron Burr seated himself on his bed, case papers scattered on the covers, and looked at the blurry image on his laptop. It wasn’t hard to see the intense gaze and well-kept curls of a woman who held herself better than most, yet Angelica Schuyler deserved more than distorted pixels. Then again, the woman practically dominated the news scene as Angelica Syverson with her unapologetic demeanour and her thirst for truth, so he had to thank the world for placing a barrier in the form of a skype call. Interviews with Angelica always ended in her favour.

That’s how sphinxes worked, anyway.

“He’s with Eliza.” The words, calculated, left his lips, and he sighed when Angelica shot back immediately.

“Why aren’t you there too? I thought you two had figured out things.” There was an accusatory edge to her voice, yet a hint of understanding laced her words. “Alex knows you better than her at the moment.”

“Then let them bond.” Aaron replied smoothly. “That’s more important.”

“…Y’know.” Angelica whistled. “You should learn to read between her lines…Especially when it comes to him.” _Him, hah._ “Aaron, I can hear you think from here, and I’m in freaking Taiwan. Talk to her about it, and maybe she’ll help you out—“

“Help out the man who shot her husband?” The hiss left before he could stop. “No, I’m not going to do that; forgiveness or not.”

“For fuck’s sake Burr!” Angelica’s snap distorted slightly, yet the words made him flinch. She never used his last name, given the situation. “Do you think Eliza hasn’t asked me what to say if you ask? She’s as confused as you are, and that was before she found out you might have found the guy. Hell, you aren’t the only one with hidden loves!”

“…What?” Aaron blinked, taken aback. He opened his mouth to continue, only to close it.

“Look,” Angelica sighed. “That’s enough cryptic shit to last you a story arc, alright? Figure it out, and keep them safe. I’ll be back in a couple days hopefully, so stay strong and – for everyone’s sake—don’t leave them alone!”

There was a long period of silence, before the two shared a small smile. “Yes ma’am.”

“You know it.” The woman, untying her shirt with one hand, gave a salute with the other. “Goodnight, Aaron.”

“Have fun with that corrupt government official.” He quipped back, feigning nonchalance. “Don’t kill him.”

“Hah, me? I wouldn’t dream of killing a racist, sexist man.”

“Go get ‘im.” The skype call ended, and the man flopped back into the covers with a groan, lost in his thoughts.

It took an hour for him to realize that Angelica was probably right.

By the time the world dawned upon him, he realized he was way in over his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoop! Tell me what you think (and your guesses for any character's monster ;) )


	7. Welcome back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw;; nothing?

Hadley continued the rest of the month at a slightly greater pace, and the increased speed in his walk was noticed quietly among campus regulars. With the late-October chill starting to settle in, it was not odd to see a trail of fiery leaves fly up behind the man as he walked to his classes, carrying far too many books on his back. Some, with interest, noticed the man saddle up to the now-frequent guest lecturer more than once, and get a more than welcome (it's relative, really) response from Mister Burnes. Of course the initial friendliness warranted speculation, but as the weeks went by, the small postgraduate group ignored the interactions entirely: it got tedious watching Hadley unload his frustrations on the passive lecturer, anyway.

Unfortunately, the eyes would have probably found far more interesting things if they fell upon the two leaving the grounds almost before curfew, hands cradling Styrofoam cups. It wasn’t the first time the duo had been in such a formation, and if one had noted each night, they would have counted at least a dozen similar instances. Aaron stayed silent through most of the trek, casting the odd glance at his vibrating companion, who had downed his coffee in minutes. It was never the coffee that brought him into this state – having witnessed enough attempts at mixing wild caffeine concoctions that warranted a legal ban – because Alex’s jitters seemed to increase exponentially when they rounded the corner to the apartment block.

Aaron looked at the seemingly normal building with a hint of pride. Despite choosing to stay somewhere else, the place had burrowed a soft spot in his heart. Every room used was held by some type of monster allied to helping them, with James and Hercules running most of the operations, and the notion was impressive. They came and went as they pleased, but behind closed doors they were free to live their lives. It was a small piece of Haven above the ground, known by few. To everyone outside those doors, ;it was just a normal apartment block, owned by a conspicuous man who had no need to be traced. The perfect cover: Quiet rebellion.

They had reserved a room for him though – something he politely declined – yet he couldn’t see himself being around too many familiar souls for too long. The loner mentality was something ingrained in his mind for years, only broken by the select few, and he somewhat grew to love the feeling of solitude; it was something he could control.

“Are we going in or what?” Alex’s voice broke him out of the thought, and Aaron noticed that he had climbed the steps to the entrance, Hadley a step below him. “I’m freezing.”

“It’s not that cold.” Hand reaching into his coat pocket, Aaron grabbed a key and opened the door, eyes never leaving the lock.  “You should have put on an extra layer; you’re literally only wearing that hoodie.”

“Says the colder person here, if you know what I mean.” Behind him, Alex scoffed, and the vampire rolled his eyes. “You’re bundled up like it is December.”

_On one particular and impromptu visit, Aaron recalled, Alex had managed to grab Aaron’s hand, and commented on the sheer temperature of his skin. It was awkward, to say the least, and Aaron wrenched his hand way when he felt it climbing higher up his arm, heat transferring. In all honestly, the touch was too foreign to feel right, and with it coming from a man he knew (and possibly had feelings for, mind you) it was even more embarrassing. Yet, despite the obvious discomfort, Alex did not pick up on the nuanced reaction, and grew more curious. “You’re like a lizard, honestly.”_

_“We don’t need heat to survive, but the blood we take keeps our organs in check. It’s our oxygen, to be frank, and since a vampire’s body consumes blood like oxygen…” He'd found himself trailing off, eyes trained on the burning spot on his arm._

_“You have no self-made blood in your system, therefore no body heat.” Alex breathed, finishing for him. The conversation stilted in the few moments of silence, and Aaron recalled letting out a small sigh when Alex asked about the case he was working on._

_He didn’t mention the hold when Angelica Skype-called a few nights later._

Speaking of Angelica-

“So, when am I meeting the news-slayer?” Alexander stepped into the lobby, instantly striding towards the elevator. Once again, no one seemed to be loitering around, and Aaron sighed as he turned to close the door.

“I don’t think Angelica will take kindly to you calling her that, but she’s not going to be around for a while; Eliza spoke with her this morning and said that her sister is stuck in Quebec for a few days.”

“The tulpa slaughter?” The elevator dinged, and both men stepped in. “It’s an isolated case though! Can’t anyone cover that locally?”

“Apparently our favourite cultists have some international allies, so if there’s a correlation then she’s obligated to report it.” Aaron seemed to deflate at the words, shaking his head. “There’s been too many of these isolated cases for it to be normal, and you’ve seen how this is putting everyone on edge. Besides, they outright claimed responsibility for the attack.”

“It’s almost like DC a couple years ago.” Alex muttered, stepping out of the elevator once it dinged. Aaron followed, and his silence let him continue. “That whole sting operation on July 4th was fucked up, but they caught a lot of monsters and made the country go crazy. That Sanchez guy?”

“That was one of the biggest blows to the monster community in decades, because I’ve never seen so many Unit members in one place. Haven was so quiet when the news rolled in; we were scared.” Aaron sighed, recalling the news broadcast with a bitter taste in his mouth. “Angelica took a week off after reporting there, said it was heart-breaking to see. I agree with her; they basically took the Tome and smashed it over any monster’s head that night.”

“Then again, they were trying to assassinate the president.” Eliza’s head popped out of James’ door, hair falling to the side at an angle. Alex caught the smell of lavender from within the room. “That’s an instant death sentence, even if they were being stupid. Right, Aaron?”

“Hmmm…”

“Evening, Eliza.” Alexander didn’t notice the flinch that the vampire did, having focused on moving forward. Eliza, smiling, straightened just as she was enveloped in a hug, giggling as Alex buried his head in the crook of her neck.  He breathed in. “Is that lavender? It smells really nice.”

“Why, thanks.” She mumbled back, pushing at his chest to dislodge him, while keeping a loose grip. Faces inches apart, she reached up and tapped his nose. “I’m trying out a new shampoo, but I’m glad you like it as much as I do.”

Alex wrinkled his face, dramatically huffing, and lurched forward to steal a kiss on her cheek. His eyes briefly caught Aaron sliding past them and into the room, but the melodic sound of Eliza’s laugh stopped him from looking, hitting him with a split-second blur of blue fabric. _Alexander –_

 _Not now._ Alexander couldn’t help but mentally scowl at the brief threads of memory. While his dreams had taken a backseat after his only trip to Haven, the waking visions had plagued him ever since. A glimpse here, a full blown vision there, and yet Alex couldn’t pinpoint anything of importance. Any hint of another person was so distorted that he could barely make out voices, let alone faces, and thus he was stuck feeling things he couldn’t relate to: the rush of adrenaline over bloody grass, the swell in his heart as he held a squirming body…His child?

It was cruel.

Eliza had listened to all of this with an open ear, eyes saddened yet genuinely concerned. Despite being unable to translate the visions for him, Alex found himself leaning into her open arms more often than he’d expect, sobbing quietly in some of their sessions. She didn’t scold him, nor ridicule him, but held onto him with a familiarity that made him weep more. _Familiar._ Alexander felt his heart swell with each interaction, sitting slightly closer on the couch as they talked, and soon found himself falling asleep with her on said couch; he’d wake up with a knot in his neck, but turn and see her head on his shoulder. _Like puzzle pieces._

_She’s beautiful._

And now, he decided, they were in this phase of Limbo: unsure whether to continue this gentle relationship they’d built. Alex found it do-able, and somewhat destiny, yet he didn’t want to intrude on Eliza in the slightest. Besides, she was a reincarnate, and one that probably had a significant other in their past life. _What if they came back and wanted to be with her?_

A lump would form in his throat as he kept his flirting light.

“Alexander?”

"Huh?"

Eliza, still holding onto his upper arms, cocked her head. “You okay up there?”

“I’m fine.” He shook his head, smiling softly at the woman in front of him, and gently took her hand in his. She didn’t protest.  “Just a small glitch in the ol’ brain. So, what is everyone up to?”

Eliza stared at him for a moment, eyes searching, before she squeezed his hand and entered the room. “Well, there isn’t much to talk about, but Angelica can’t come over just yet; something about Quebec and –“

Alex listened intently, and the nights went as normal: surrounded by a bunch of monsters.

 

* * *

 

_Light: There’s light._

_Alexander turns around at the feel of it on his skin, warm like a flame, and watches the blurs swirl around him in various colours. For a moment, the croon of a violin floats above the silence, accompanied by the sounds of glasses and laughter, and fabric scrapes along the floor. Familiar._

_“Where am I?” The words come out in silence, and Alexander feels like he didn’t even open his mouth. The world around him, shifting nauseatingly in response, places him in a position less blurry, and he catches the twirls of a dance: A ball._

_It's cold._

_“If you could marry a sister –“The words, teasing, cut off just as he is turned around, fading into the blurs, and Alex tries to reach forward. Perhaps if he could follow them…_

_No._

_He’s turned again, and a new shade of blue graces his sight: darker, flecked with gold in places. “If it takes fighting a war for us to meet, then it would have been worth it.” His mouth opens, and the sensation of a hand flutters across his lips. A laugh._

_The world swirls once more, yet it feels like a dance: the weight upon him comforting. A dance._

_A silent question._

_“…Show me.” He leans in, and lets it lead._

_Slowly, but surely, the dance swirls and twirls, blurring the edges between his mind and the puppet he’s become. Alexander feels himself fall further into this dance, strands pulling at his steps as he hears the song of a father’s blessing, and the teasing harmony of friends rising into the night sky, accompanied by glasses raised. There was that laugh again: A laugh so familiar it made him falter in step._

_Yet he danced, and she led him._

_Alexander found himself yearning for any sign of who she was, attempting in vain to cling onto the threads of her hair brushing his cheek, or the steady beat of a phantom heart, yet the dance never felt close enough to hold on. He danced and she led, yet he yearned for a different tune. Familiar. “Who are you?” He tried to scream, the slick heat of tears searing his cheeks, yet no words came out. “Why can’t I remember you!”_

_The being seemed to smile into his neck, whispering things he never seemed to hear, and he sobbed more._

_“Please…I want to know.”_

_And so he danced the dance of grief, never seeming to find what he wanted, yet secure in the arms of a pillar so great, he was sure he didn’t deserve it. She held onto him with age old strength, keeping him from straying off the beaten path._

_Alexander found himself dancing until his eyes met the ceiling, tear marks on his cheeks, and helplessly in love._

* * *

 

“Aaron didn’t come with you today?” By the time the elevator closed on floor twelve, Alexander was greeted by the sight of Hercules putting (hopefully) fake cobwebs on the ceiling, standing precariously on a step-ladder. His hoodie rode up slightly as he meticulously pinned the stubborn things on the wall, yet he seemed steady enough not to bother with his pose. Funnily enough, his rabbit ears were bent against the ceiling, twitching randomly. “Guess he remembered that I’m decorating today. Happy Halloween, though!”

“Don’t you think you’re a little too old for Halloween? Not that I’m complaining…Trick or treating must be a pooka’s dream come true.” Alex teased, manoeuvring past the man to get to the other apartment. Knocking softly, he missed the scowl Herc sent his way, and grinned once a flustered Eliza opened the door. The scent of cinnamon wafted out of the room, and by the whisk in her hand, it seemed that he’d caught her baking.

“Play nice boys, or no treats for either of you. “ Clicking her tongue, Eliza retreated back into the room once she pecked Alex on the cheek, and the man followed quickly. The phoenix had her feathers out, and once he saw the talons on her hands, he politely stopped staring. That was new.

Eliza’s apartment was exactly as he’d picture it – warm, light, and downright cosy – and Alex always took some time to marvel at the sheer homely feel it had. Among the soft blues and greys, Eliza added a few pictures of her adoptive family and other milestones in her life, even saving a table for some of the class photos she’d had with her students. It was a rare sight to see her so invested in each and every face she’d taught, and she seemed to remember each one without fail. Smiling softly, he turned away from the table and went to grab a seat in the afternoon light, leaning back with a yawn.

“So, Halloween huh?” Eliza giggled at the tone, and Alex took it as a sign to continue. “I wouldn’t expect a bunch of big, scary monsters to endorse such things. Isn’t this some type of appropriation?”

“Honestly, some people think it’s the devil’s birthday, so let them do what they want. Candy is candy, anyway, or at least that’s what Herc said.” Placing a clean bowl on the table, talons tapping on the glass, Eliza started mixing a different batter. “You don’t celebrate it?”

“Usually holed up in my room when it happens; and I don’t have friends to go party with, anyway.” Alex shrugged, turning around to face her. “What do you guys do around here? Get spoopy?”

“Haha, you’re hilarious.” Eliza rolled her eyes, yet the smile stayed on her lips. “Nothing spectacular. Give out some candy to the neighbourhood kids, mostly, and sometimes go out to a costume party. Depends on how moody everyone is – considering how important the day is for magic users.”

“So there _is_ a reason for Halloween? I know it has something to do with spirits and stuff but they don’t really tell you much in school.” Acting scandalous, Alex gasped, only to notice the reaction and pause. “I mean – do tell?”

Eliza continued mixing, adding two eggs. “So, you’re somewhat clued up on auras, right?”

“They define and distinguish a soul, and practically make up the basis of magic.” The words flowed like a textbook.

“Exactly.” Eliza hummed softly. “Some auras are more inclined to accessing it though, and that’s why the distinguishing part is important: anyone can use magic, but some use it better than others and in different ways. For example, werewolves were supposedly cursed long ago to shift, and thus their auras respond to the moon and shift accordingly. They’re forever tied to that – it’s their defining aura trait – yet some have been reported to practice magic. Check humans turning into witches by practising magic: they’ve just unlocked a part of their aura.”

“And Halloween is important because…” Alex shifted in his seat, eyes wide with interest.

“Hold on, I’m getting there.” Eliza fretted, sighing softly. “So if aura defines us, then what defines our aura? We all have souls that change constantly, so something in the universe must oversee that. Maybe it’s the gods above, or just the universe herself, but it’s widely known that Halloween – in all its forms – brings us closer to that entity. Spirits, who are somewhat dead, have an immense affinity for it, and that’s why All Hallow’s Eve is related to them. Hence the monster connotation: We’re closer to magic, so we feel it greater the nearer it is.”

_The nearer it is._

“So are you…erm…feeling it right now? With the feathers out ‘n all?” Alexander chose his words carefully, sheepishly looking away. “If it’s tonight, then it must be huge.”

“I’ve learned to live with it; we phoenixes aren’t as swayed by the pull, but you can imagine our pooka friend outside. He’s a literal spirit trapped in this plane of existence. Herc’s been skittish the whole morning; he refuses to expel the magic on anything but décor this time around, and James kicked him out the moment he heard the news.” Eliza chuckled. “I’ll just feed off the warmth of baking, thank you very much.”

“…You said it gets worse the nearer it gets, right?” Alex murmured, an idea forming in his head.

“Usually, yet some are immune.”

“Does it happen to all monsters? Even ones who don’t know?” He turned away, wringing a wrist. “Like, could it work if –“

That seemed to get Eliza’s attention, and she placed the bag of flour on the table. Sensing an underlying question, she wiped her hands and walked over, trying to meet his eye. “Alex, what’s wrong?”

“…I’ve had this dream that I want to know about and –“

Eliza sighed, the feathers on her neck flattening in sympathy. “Taking advantage of this won’t help you remember naturally, Alex. It could hurt you; who knows how harsh it could be if you try and tap into things you’re not ready for.”

“But what if it works!” Frantic, he leaned back with a huff. “It could work and I could remember! Then you all can stop treating me like I’m fragile, stop tiptoeing around your words and maybe start – “

“Alex, no.” Eliza folded her arms, brow creasing. For a moment, flames flickered across her hair. “That’s too dangerous to even consider! Magic is _not_ your friend, especially in a scenario like this. You could get hurt or – “

“Or what?” The huff left his lips with a short laugh. “Die? I came back, didn’t I? I can’t seem to die!”

“Alexander!” Her feathers raised, and started growing down an arm.

“I keep living and dying and living again, yet I don’t ever seem to get it right, huh? Whoever I was must have screwed up big time, despite having so many nice people around them! You know, apparently I had a wife and kids – “ He closed his eyes, missing the look she gave him. The world seemed to fade into white noise, and with each word, he panicked greater. Frantically, he searched for the lead in his dance, and found no instructions in the steps. “And they loved me – they loved me _so much_ – and I think I screwed up. That’s the only thing I can think of, especially since you guys won’t tell me anything. It’s my fault, and I don’t know what. God, what did I _do that was oh so wrong? Can I ever fix it?”_

“Oh, Alexander– “ He felt arms wrap around him, and he stiffened , lurching back, something snapping in his brain.

No beat. No melody.

“No!” Shuffling away, he caught a glimpse of something not so blurred, filling his sight with kind eyes. She seemed to smile at him, dressed in black, forgiving. Her eyes alight with an inner fire that rivalled the sun. The sight flickered, showing a living room for a moment, yet the guilt washed over him like a wildfire.

He breathed in the smoke with a sob. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! B-Betsy I’m…”

Something clicked, and the vision faded, lurching him forward with a ferocity he didn’t know he had. _Betsy. Schuyler. Phillip._

He had names.

Alexander felt his legs move before he heard the frantic voice behind him. “Alex! Whatever you heard, don’t!”

The melody, hauntingly familiar, changed to meet his footsteps, apartment bound.

 

* * *

 

Below him, the streets hummed with traffic, and the neighbours played a B-rated horror movie, yet Alexander could only hear silence. The laptop glared at him with a hidden sneer, goading him to type what he wanted, yet his hand felt heavy on the mouse. He’d never found himself lost for words when put in front of the keys, conjuring paragraphs of material within hours, and yet the three words he’d put into the search bar seemed to fill up the screen. _Betsy. Phillip. Schuyler._

Google hadn’t brought up and spoiler-filled suggestions in the search bar, but as Alexander hovered over the enter key, he found himself scared. Frightened. _Is this what I want?_  The thought gnawed at him with a cackle, clinging onto the hint of sanity he had left, yet the rush dominated his mind. _We have to know I have to know we have to know-_

He clicked, and his dance split open.

_Schuyler. Elizabeth. Eliza. Phillip._

_Alexander Hamilton._

The name fell upon him like a storm, and he suddenly couldn’t breathe as the memories flooded in. Startled, Alex let out a strangled gasp as he collapsed out of his chair, hitting the floor with a flood, and wheezed at the pain in his head. He knew it all, yet it kept on coming, whispering and shouting and purring and words, oh so many words, gnawed at his mind with the ferocity of a lifetime, pressing down on his lungs like a –

_“Wait!”_

Then there was pain, lodged right between his ribs, and he screamed in agony, startled by the sudden taste of blood in his mouth. Had he bit his tongue or had his body succumbed to the agony he’d brought upon himself. It burned within him, growing outwards as if it wanted to escape, and Alex was too feeble to fight it off. _Pain._

_It didn’t feel like a memory._

“Hamilton…” He let it take him as the first growl of thunder tore through the city, and by the time he lost sight of the wall, he heard a scream outside the window. Lifting his hand to his face, he caught a glimpse of midnight blue, before it merged into black.

The freak storm broke, shattering the autumn skies,  and the heavens opened.

* * *

 

Outside, the clouds grew with purpose, swirling over a previously sunset sky with no warning. It took mere minutes for the wind to howl with anger, escalating at such a brilliant speed that people took to building with fear filled screams. In ten minutes, the waves lapping at the shore had grown in size, and the skies about grew teeth, growling at the city below.

Unnatural.

The sirens rang out as police took to the streets, and the rain struck asphalt with an angry hiss. “May everyone please calm down and find shelter! This is not a drill!” Officers barked at frantic pedestrians, directing them towards train stations for safety, while others scanned the lightning filled skies for any hint of unnatural activity.

The thunder roared back at them: a cry of unchained glory.

“What do you think it is!” An officer clawed his way over to another, uniform soaked, and the two clung onto a pole as yet another burst of wind sent people reeling. “It must be massive!”

“I don’t know, but it’s an angry sonofabitch!” The other yelled in reply, barely heard over the sounds of thunder. “Any ideas?”

Before the man could reply, a black van tore through the street, insignia emblazoned across the side, and turned into another street. It seemed glued to the asphalt, despite the sheer force of the wind, and its appearance brought a lump to their throats. For a moment, they stared at the point where it was last seen, mouths set in a line, before the first officer whistled low.

“Whatever it is…It’s dead soon.”

 

 

Alex woke up to the sound of knocking, rolling over with a groan. His head, throbbing painful, made his vision blur out with every blink, and he found himself curling up into a ball when the knock came again. Too loud, and far too close, the knock continued, and Alex whimpered from his spot on the floor.

“Are you alright in there, sir?” The voice rang out after a few more knocks, and Alex flinched at the question. It all came back to him – the google search, the realization – and now he was in so much pain…

_Alexander Hamilton: The ten dollar founding father._

Feathers tickled at his chin: foreign.

In his numbed state, he didn’t hear the door click open. “Oh god…Are you okay?” The voice, shocked, was accompanied by footsteps, and Alex curled tighter, whimpering. The person kneeled next to him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Shh…”

Alex found himself leaning into the touch, whimpering again, and the person hummed softly. “You’ll be alright…Let me help you.”

Alex opened his eyes, and saw a sea of black uniform. “Wait –“

The grip tightened, and he screamed.

“I’ve got the thunderbird.” Squirming, Alex heard the words with fear,distorted and emotionless, and felt himself being restrained. “Secure the area, and sent backup. He’s not hostile as of yet.”

Alex felt his leg kick out, connecting with bone, and the grip loosened enough for him to slide away from his assailant. He slid into a wall, changing into a sitting position, and watched the uniformed Unit member with fear. They didn’t seem to advance, only staring at him past the dark visor of their helmet, yet the intention was clear. “…You need to submit willingly or face the consequences.”

“…No.” Alex felt the words leave his lips, a growl of thunder striking the air, and something swelled within him. An ally, a thirst.

“Then we’ll just have to treat you like the rest of them.” There was finality in their tone, laced with a tinge of regret, but it was quickly replaced by the Unit member advancing. Alexander got to his feet, hands up as he wildly tried to dodge.

The reaction was instantaneous, and Alex knew they didn’t see it coming. A warm feeling coursed through his skin, filling every pore and raising every hair on his skin. It buzzed with an anger he’d never experienced, yet it held a cry of freedom he never wanted to miss. An age old feeling of something great flowed past his fingertips, craving release, and his mind let it fly.

The lightning illuminated the room as it hit the Unit member on the chest.

Then there was pain.

Alexander hunched forward, crying out, birdlike, as he saw the body smack into the wall and slump against it, twitching. He, however, felt like every vein was on fire, eating into his body with a vengeance. _What did I do what did I do what did I –_ The thought rang in his ears, higher than the white noise, and he found himself frozen on the stop.

Then slumping.

Then gone.

The storm raged on, and the world woke up within him.

 

* * *

 

“I came as soon as I could.”

 Hercules flinched, turning to watch the voice materialize into a man, having appeared without forewarning. He exuded power unlike anything he’d seen, and with the boost of All Hallows Eve, he found himself bowing his head unintentionally. A tribute to a greater being. Tongue heavy, he didn’t reply, and the two stared ahead in mutual silence. What would he say? Ask how DC’s weather is fairing?  It was heavy.

“I was too late to stop him.” The words barely rose above a whisper, yet they rang around the room with purpose. “They almost got him.”

“You did your best.” A man murmured behind the glass, looking into the room that held an unconscious, yet familiar face. “He’d managed to hold his own until you arrived, and he’s here now. Don’t fret; he’s going to need more help once he wakes up.”

“…He’s okay, right?” Hercules looked away, fists clenched. “Please tell me he’s alright, George. I can’t imagine him finding out only to –“

“I’ve checked.” With the words uttered, the man turned away from the glass, casting one final look at his companion. “He will be fine in time; we’ve got work to do.”

“Work?”

“Gather the others,” A sigh, resigned, came in reply, before it merged into a determined growl. “They’re going to piece it together soon enough, so we’ve got to strike first.”

Above ground, the storm started to recede. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY HALLOWEEN! I just had to post this today. I'm stuck studying for finals next week, but oh well.  
> At least I've gotten the ball rolling: Alex remembered(?) and got attacked(?), and boy is he going to start some fun things.  
> Thank you guys so much for sticking with this! I'm stoked to deliver aha!
> 
> ALSO: I've made a side blog (@thedevilofmonticello) for this! If you want to ask any questions or see character aesthetics/drawings, then skip over! I'm really craving some world building prompts to write, so come screech at me lmao.  
> \--Birb.


	8. A belief

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw; some light gore

_It’s damp; boots sinking into the mud as a small group traverse the forest path. They aren’t a large group so to speak, yet they walk with the vigilance that is expected of them. Their uniform, slightly ruffled by the weather, was in stark contrast to the stormy woodland, red bleeding among the browns and greens, unnatural._

_Yet they still walked._

_“How far until the camp?” A man, clad in a uniform far greater in cut than the rest, barked from the saddle of a grey stallion, glaring down at the soldier by his side. Startled, the man in question spluttered a reply, eyes darting between his superior and the sky. They were equally intimidating, but one was mostly due to sheer speculation._

_It had been a sun-filled afternoon mere minutes ago, and the storm still seemed to be spreading like a wound. An ill omen, if any, yet the major turned his nose at the idea. For such young, levelheaded men, they still fell under the hold of children’s tales? And yet they somehow had the nerve to open fire on some retreating rebels on a boat. Nature has her own haphazard course, unhinged from human decryption, so why would it be attributed to any arcane connotations?_

_Mere flummery, that’s what it was._

_A roll of thunder made one of the men falter, eyes training on the clouds, and a few others breathed out in exasperation. The major ignored it, eyes focused on steadying his horse, and relaxed as the walk fell back into a still silence. At least nature was kind enough to hold her tears before they reached their destination._

_A line of light tore across the sky, splitting the grey with a spindly strike, and disappeared before a crack wrecked the air, equally spectacular. Enraptured, the major stopped the proceedings, gazing up at the sky with intrigue._

_"Oh?" He’d always had a small love for rain, and an obsession with the sky itself. With so many hues it managed to dress itself in, he would stare into the cosmos as blues changed into orange and grey, and yet he never seemed to map every colour it held. Now, he spotted hues of green among the edges shining grey with each rip of the atmosphere’s fabric, and it’s the most beautiful sight he’s witnessed. “Green…It’s a marvel what you see among the colonies, yes? London has all those dreary greys, but this,” he smiled. "This is beautiful."_

_Behind him, his men shifted quietly, eyes darting among themselves with unhindered fear. While the major was focused on the clouds and light, one man had spotted something swirling from where they came, advancing. “Sir–“_

_“It's almost like it's–What?”_

_“Pardon my words Sir, but this is not a storm…” The words, choking on the air, reverberated through shaking legs. “I believe we may have angered some type of–“_

_“Of what? A witch?” Something curled in the major’s stomach, angry, and the reins were tugged to place him in front of his men. “If I hear any talk of magic and witchcraft–any at all–then I will see that this whole battalion is punished accordingly, understood?”_

_“But sir–“ Something glided above the clouds, tucking into itself as another grumble rolled through the woodland, hungry._

_“Enough!”_

_The sky opened in agreement, accompanied by a bright light that turned the trees grey. White noise tore through eardrums, searing. The screams that followed,  drowned out by rain and feather, slowly ceased with every successive lightning strike. The major felt his horse rise up on its hind-legs, bucking its rider clear into the undergrowth before taking off into the woods, wild eyed. He fell with a grunt, pain rising in his leg, and felt himself slide slightly as his cheek scraped against the floor. However, he watched the creature retreat for many moments, unhindered by the woodland around him._

_For those moments, he was still._

_It was broken beyond immediate repair, bark shredded and branches cracked, scorched with the fire of a thousand skies._

_And feathers:  large, navy blue, and tinged with the green of the sky._

_The major groaned at the gash in his shoulder, securing a limp arm, and tried to move it. However, his vision refocused on a more grotesque sight, catching bone among fabric. There was a crack above him, and the sky echoed it with eagerness; like a proud parent, spitting jeers into the major’s eyes. However, that crack was not like the strike of light above him, nor like the crack of a whip, and when a large mass shifted above him, sending bark flying, the major craned his head upwards._

_The pain sunk in with the fear. “…You’re not real.” The words held finality, laced with an ever-growing fear. “You’re the devil tempting me to hell as I die!” Breath quickening, he tried to move away from the eyes that pinned him down, hand scrabbling on dirt. Each pull left his dead arm dragging at his side, catching dirt and grime among the blood; each tug drew blood from his tongue, teeth gnashing with the quickening insanity. The rain made him look away periodically, yet each time he returned his gaze, it was still here._

_It leapt off its perch, eyes alight, and talons met earth with a silent sinkage. The major felt the storm surge further, and panicked, curling up into a ball. His arm lay sprawled to the side, forgotten by the living body and dying mind. “S-spare me! In the name of all that is holy, I beg you to spare me!”_

_There was a moment of silence, contemplative, and the major dared a glance from under his curled state, spying the creature move towards him._

_It held no remorse in its eyes, and he found himself submitting to the inevitable. He had no choice in the matter._

_The thunderbird leered forward, triumphant, feathers rattling with the thunder, and opened its mouth to echo the sound. For a moment, the major only saw the sky and bird as one, leeching off each other as a singular storm; living and swirling like an artwork. A hallucination._

_And then there was light._

 

* * *

 

It’s dark; words echoed around the chasm of his mind with a soft touch. Alex couldn’t find a way to open his eyes, eyelids fluttering with great effort yet staying closed. It was embarrassing, and rather annoying, but he could not find himself dwelling on his inabilities for long.

The words curled around his sleeping form, cheeky, and he fought off another will to dream; it was still too hard to comprehend every onslaught of information, a second life outweighing his own. In fact, the sheer thought of it threatened to overwhelm him at this stage, and with the lack of sensory stimulation, madness was sure to settle in.

It was dark, yet the words continued forming, singing and shouting and laughing and _–_

No.

_“You’re doing really well, dearie.”_ A voice he’d come to appreciate, distant and amused, gave a spark to his synapses. For a moment, the words warped around him with an indecipherable familiarity, before they squeezed around his skull, definite. _“Wake up.”_

An order.  _“You can’t stay here with me just yet.”_ With that, there was light.

Eyes snapping open, Alex felt himself rise from his position, a sharp breath leaving his lips like he had not breathed for years. For a moment, he forgot to breathe in again, irises darting around with unrestrained vigour, before a searing pain in his lungs dragged the air back inside of him. Distant, white noise replaced the serenity of his slumber, accompanied by voices too close to identify.

It was too much.

“Alexander, can you hear me?” The voice slowly morphed into a gentle lilt, followed by a gentle push into seemingly plush fabric. Panicked, he struggled against it, eyes wild _–where where where where–_ and yet the hand let him move. Understanding.

Slowly but surely, the thrashing stopped;  Alex found himself staring at soft brown eyes, and then focused on the smile. “I need you to lie down, okay? It’ll be alright…” Eliza _– Betsy? My wife our wife our –_ pressed forward once again, and he found himself falling softly, receiving a gentle caress on the shoulder. “There we go…That’s much better.” The words were soft, and Alex found himself preening, eyes filled with awe.

“…You are…I am…” Hoarse, Alex felt his lips move, stumbling over syllables and weaving between confusion. It felt like he’d barely breathed since the dawn of time, suspended.

“I wanted to tell you, I really did.” The eye contact was broken with a sigh, and Alex found himself chasing after it with a whine. Frustrated, he attempted to lift an arm up, only for his weakened state to restrict his movements, body unresponsive. Eliza, noticing the feeble twitches of his hand, gently took it in her own. “I just…couldn’t let you get hurt.”

She sounded frustrated with herself _– angry, why is she angry–_ and Alex whined again, begging for her attention. Inside him, something stirred, and he nodded at the sudden burst of knowledge. _We fucking love her; she will forever be of a higher standard than us–_

“You did…what was right.” The response was brief, but it seemed to allow her to look back at him, confused. Frantic, Alex seized the opportunity, making his hand twitch with every bit of energy he had. “…I’m just glad I get to see you again…”

Eliza laughed –a breathy, confused laugh–and Alex found himself melting at the sound, its decrescendo echoing a dance he’d grown to love. For a moment, he felt as if he was floating on air, suspended once again in that void of words, yet each note seemed to thread each syllable together like glue. _It was her; that was her._

The dance faded into clarity _,_ then fell _._

A cry split the air, unheard, and Alex felt it wreck through his whole body, making him arch upwards. The melody cut off into a lethal silence, pushing into his chest with a sharp movement.

The world snapped between his ribs, and Alex felt his breath plummet. “I f-failed you. I left you all alone with the children and the Tome and I was–”  Breaths constricting with each word, the world started to blur, trapping him further in his prison. Pain wrapped around his side, eliciting a startled gasp from gritted teeth, and for a moment he stared at the location. At that instant, the world warped, distorting reality, and the sight refused to recede.

There was blood: So much blood.

He panicked. “I’m dying! Oh god I’m dying!” The thrashing started again, eyes glazing at the sight, and rolling to the back of his head. “F-Fuck I’m…I’m dying I’m!”

“Alex! Listen to me! Stay with my voice!” An arm hurled him upwards, and Alex wailed at the sudden movement, chin resting on a feather shoulder. Warm. An inherent fear wanted to push away from the embrace, scared of the blood staining her dress, and yet he was unable to do so. Trapped. “I need you to stay with me, can you do that?”

_“Are you sure you want to remember, darling?” A new voice, sneering, echoed in the distance, receding into the sheen of a bullet, the flutter of many pamphlets littering the cosmos. “Let us end this. Come to me.”_

The hold tightened as another sob wrecked his lips, ragged and pained.  For a brief moment, he thought of himself reaching out. _Yes._

But then Eliza held tighter, rocking him back and forth, and the connection snapped with an angry hiss. “It’s not real.” Each word severed a thread of distortion, changing a mangled room into a quiet bedroom, banishing the pain to a mere breath in his side like magic. "I promise. Just breathe."

The heat of tears sliding down his cheek was met with a cry, grateful, and yet the rocking stayed to the beat of their hearts. In sync, tethered to reality.  “It’s n-not real.” The words snipped the last of the strings, and Alex felt himself slump into her embrace, exhausted. “I’m alive.”

“You are, my dear Alexander.” The croon reverberated through his chest, igniting every stolen nrve in his body, and Alex used the energy to return the embrace, nose buried between the feathers near her neck. “…I’m here now.”

Lavender, she still smelled like lavender.

An eternally burning incense.

“…I know.” With that, the two held onto each other like puzzle pieces, feathers rocking to the unheard symphony of their hearts, blues and reds alike.

 

* * *

 

“Alexander.”

“Mhm?”

“…I think we should let the others know you are alright?” The whisper fluttered against his ear, and the man found himself squirming, turning over in the bed. A slight squeak followed at the sudden movement, and resulted in him turning back. Eliza, bright eyed, gazed back at him through lidded eyes. Sleepy.

He reached for her hand under the covers, giving it a squeeze. “But I’m tired.” Pouting, Alex burrowed closer, placing his forehead on hers, a smile forming. “Five more minutes.”

She shot him a look, disappointed, and he pouted further until she smiled again. “You know I’d love to, dear.” _Dear, not dearie._ “But everyone is worried. Hercules has been tying himself in knots since you didn’t wake up.”

_Maguire. Mulligan. He’s always been looking out for you._ Alex made a noise at the back of his throat, and felt a few unhindered feathers lift at his neck, a foreign feeling. He refused to acknowledge them, embarrassed by the display. “But I’m not…” _Ready?_ He turned away before it showed in his eyes, shaking slightly.

Feathers…He had feathers down his neck and arms.

A warm weight curled against his back. “You’ll be fine, everyone is so excited to meet you, even if you feel like you don’t know what you are right now. We’re all here to help _–_ I’m here to help _–_ and we won’t stop until you’re confident, okay?”

Alexander hummed, sighing softly, but didn’t respond immediately.

They stayed curled up for seconds or hours, waiting for the courage to fester. Quietly, Alex had taken to running a hand over his feathers, tracing the lines of stormy blue that echoed his dreams, and paused when Eliza ran her own hand afterwards, whispering sweet words with each pause. They were beautiful under the dim light, catching hues of green at the edges before fading into a storm, and Eliza would murmur just how regal he looked. Encouraging.

They stayed there until time ran forward.

“…One at a time.” Alex murmured once his hand stilled at his neck, digging into a clump of broader feathers for the feeling. “Is that alright?”

“Whatever you want; it’s up to you how this goes.” Eliza hummed, and retreated from his side, briefly letting cold air underneath the duvet as she walked to the door. For those moments, Alex watched her walk with lidded eyes, awed, and curled up once more, shivering.  “I’ll be sure to find someone nice.”

“Don't go…You’re warm.” The matter-of-fact tone made her laugh, and Alex grinned from his makeshift rollup in the covers, squirming. It almost looked birdlike, with his hair sprawled haphazardly like crown feathers. A giant, grumpy bird, indeed. “Who’re you bringing?”

Just before the door closed, Alex caught the words “ _–_ Someone I think would like to see you.” Before it shut with a click, and he frowned slightly in confusion.

_Would like to see me, huh? What does that mean?_

It didn’t take long for two sets of footsteps to advance, and a giggle to follow, and Alex unwrapped himself with caution, sitting up in the bed. For a moment, a new scent wafted over his now sensitive nostrils, raising every hair on his neck. _Flowery, yet crisp._

_Familiar._

The door opened, and in stepped a face he’d seen before, yet never in his life. “It took you long enough; at least you finally woke up.” Her ear twitched, curling out from a majestic mane of hair. “Though I’m sure you woke up earlier.” The voice that left the woman’s lips was sharp and reprimanding, but her eyes gave it away; it was a jest. Relieved, excited and confident, each step she took exuded a grace he’d seen in few people, a regal poise that warranted attention. A stride that showed she was searching for a balance, yet she was not going to go down without a fight.

Only one sphinx had harboured such an aura, and Alex found himself smiling softly. The life hidden inside of him echoed the gesture, swirling happily. “Angelica?”

 “Alexander.” The words held a tune that inserted itself into his symphony, a new chapter in his rebuilding book. She stood slightly away from his bedside, her hands folded in front of herself, and watched from afar with warm eyes and a swaying tail. Calculating, yet respectful, “It’s good to see you.” She was not going to move any further, and Eliza smiled at the sentiment.

Alexander, however, was not having it. With a small huff, he got out of bed, kicking the duvet to the opposite side of the bed as he sprang out. Satisfied, he turned his gaze to the older Schuyler ( _no, Syverson_ ) and stormed over, arms wide. “Don’t I get a hug?”

Just as he reached her, he was pulled in, yelping at the sudden motion as the woman laughed. “Oh shut up!”

“Is that it?”He found himself laughing as well, leaning back to survey her with a grin. “Is that how you break down your interviewees? That’s uncanny of you, Miss Schuyler.”

“Oh stop it. I’m surprised you didn’t blow up the city, Mr Hamilton.” Eliza laughed at Angelica’s dismissal, and Alex leaned in for one last hug before springing away. “Luckily you didn’t, because I don’t want to have to cover your ass.”

A gasp left his lips, betrayed. “Believe me, I can cover my own ass, thank you very much.” Eliza’s laugh escalated, and Angelica joined her. “What? You think I’m lying? Come on, this is nepotism! Maybe I should just leave _–“_

Angelica stopped at the words, startled, and before she could hide it, Alex raised an eyebrow. “What?” Angelica frowned again, eyes darting to the ceiling, and Eliza caught the motion with a sigh. Simultaneously, they regarded each other with resigned looks, waiting for the other to speak. A silent agreement, which Alex found nervewrecking. Insistent, he pestered again. “Why can’t I leave?”

“You can’t right now…They’re still looking for you.” The mutter left with a sigh, and Alex found himself frowning at the words, confused.

_Who?_

“You can’t remember much from the storm, but your apartment was invaded by the Night Unit before Herc got you out. Until we’re sure that the memory charm worked, then you going back is risky…Thunderbirds are rare, Alex.” Angelica seemed to read his expression, moving to sit on the bed. “That…and another thing.”

Eliza moved to the door, sighing softly. “You know who you were, Alex, and that’s dangerous. People like us aren’t supposed to live in a world built to exterminate us, and so many of us are appearing in one place…Something wants us to meet. _”_

Alexander paused for a moment, hearing a chuckle in the distant recesses of his mind. Approving. “Don’t you think that’s a sign?” The words, slow and unsure, left his lips. “Especially with how things are right now? Monster-human tension is at its peak yes, but what can we do about it? We’re just old souls in new bodies _–_ ”

“Some of these souls aren’t written in the Tome, Alex. You died before whoever wrote it decided on potential threats, so you’re safe for now. We are too.” Angelica threw a pointed look his way, nodding. “Maybe our purpose is related to that. Suppose we do muster a way to end this once and for all…Imagine the rewards.”

Eliza nodded as well, sure. “We can’t sit by and let this fester…We’ve found and lost so many, but we’re getting there slowly. A second chance at making things right: true freedom.”

Each sentence stacked upon the other with a beat, and Alex felt that spark within him once more, his soul (though larger than he thought) singing with the words.

They merged into one word, which burst into a thousand more familiar scenarios from a time long erased from present society.

A time he was tasked to bring back. _Welcome back._

“…You’re saying we’re back to start…a revolution?” The song paused, building up once more, and Alex felt a trail of heat under his feathers: a spark, a promise. “With what army?”

A pause, and Angelica smiled.

“Once is a mistake, twice is a coincidence and three times is a pattern.” The sentence held the proud lilt of a riddle already solved, and the sphinx crossed her legs with a nod. “You’ve met five reincarnates you know _–“_

The names flooded in. _Madison, Mulligan…_

_Burr._

“ _–_ And if that isn’t a pattern, then we’re sure to fail. However, the world is crazy and wild; who are we to say there isn’t more trapped souls out there? Friends that would aid us in a heartbeat.” There was a wistful sigh in her voice, and he could not help but understand it.

Alexander caught Eliza’s eye across the room, maintaining eye contact for a while longer, and smiled. She smiled back, proud, and murmured the joint consensus. “So we keep looking. Together.”

Sooner or later, Angelica joins their determined smiles with one of her own. “Together.”

 

* * *

 

“Look at those feathers! It’s been too long since I glimpse the living storm.” After finding out that Alex had been holed up in Eliza’s bedroom the whole time, he’d opted to meet the others in her living room, only to be met with an onslaught of nagging. Hercules, practically causing a mini-tornado as he whirled around him, continued his parental scrutiny of the half-baked thunderbird. “I’m sure you can manifest more, Alex.”

It’d been three hours since he’d uttered those words, and Alex was growing more frustrated by the minute. “I can’t!” _Oh really?_ “We’ve only managed to get from human to _–“_  He waved a feathered arm, huffing, “This!”

Hercules, flicking a rabbit ear, dropped his voice. “Take it easy: You need to listen to yourself, not fight!” An understanding smile graced his lips. “Maybe it’s time to take a break?”

“I think that’d work the best,” The two turned at the sound of wing flutter, spotting a recently teleported James at the door, holding two cups of coffee. “Rome wasn’t built in a day; you’ll figure this out soon. It took me months to get my wings to pull out.”

_Wings I’ve never seen._ Alex sighed, and flopped onto the couch, feathers shimmering into skin. His hand tugged at his hair for a moment, before accepting the cup with a sigh. “Fine…I guess.”

“There’s no rush.” Herc nodded, flopping down next to him and snagging the remote, idling flicking through the channels. “We have enough time to sort the big things out; you’re only so learned in your past life, and we’ve all have months or years to figure it out.”

“If you say it like that…Then I’ll accept it, but I want to help as much as I _–_ wait, stop!”

The channel surfing paused on a news channel, the headline referencing ‘NYC’s freak storm’ and Alex leaned in to listen.

The man on the television was at a press conference, ignoring the constant flashing of cameras with a practised eye. Instead, he addressed the group with a presence that captured the room, speaking of the recent events with a cool, yet formal tone. **“In light of the recent events, I assure you that the city of New York will continue to monitor any such events, and that all are expected to do their part in protecting this great city. Despite rumours circulating of an inhumane source, there is no confirmation of such a factor, but it will be taken into account. For now, please be aware of your surroundings.”**

Alex found himself enraptured, leaning forward in his seat as he sipped his coffee. “So they’re literally ripping apart political parties for the storm? Humph!”

Hercules hummed.

**“Mr Warwick! If this is a creature attack, do you think it could be linked to the recent uprising of the remaining monster population?”** A reporter rose above the rest, and was followed by a clamour of sound.

The New York-based politician waited for quiet, and then addressed the nearest camera. **“If it is one of these so-called groups, then it will be dealt with in an orderly fashion. The violence they exert hurts more than it will ever gain, and that is not right. We can overcome this with the support of the people around us, and if we fail, we will do it again.”**

Alex realized that the gaze didn’t falter; the politician stared at him through the screen, and he looked away, frowning.

At the breakage of eye contact, he almost missed the final words, but they washed over him with a finality he chose to cling onto.

_I have survived a hurricane._

_I have survived a war._

_I have survived a duel._

“…And we will do it again.” A determined frown crossed his features, and with one last gulp, Alex turned to the pooka. “Hey Herc?”

“Mhm?” An ear flicking, he was met with a curious stare.

“…Can we try the thing again?”

James groaned softly, and a flutter indicated his leave; Hercules, however, chuckled softly. “Alright, let’s see what we can do, Hadley.”

The markings on his skin glowed slightly, dispersing a forest-green residue as he shifted into his full rabbit form, nose wrinkling. The residue magic curled happily around Alex’s skin, coaxing out a few feathers without fear.

Alexander found himself correcting a few things after another long session, and glimpse a tinge of scaling on his fingertips after every confirmation.

_Hadley. Hamilton. One in the same._

By the time he’d crashed on the couch, Hercules spotted a crown feather among his friends hair, sighed softly, and placed the blanket over his sleeping form.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some new voices join the team!
> 
> Sorry for the delay, but I'm glad to be back! I'm winding down my academic year, so expect many things from me real soon. Thanks oh so much for all the reads, comments and kudos; it really warms my little birb soul knowing that I'm not writing nonsense haha. Also, if you have any questions or even prompt ideas, shoot me a comment or tumblr ask and I'll check it out!


	9. A shift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw;; none

After the initial storm of the media died down, Alex noticed that everything almost seemed normal again. Thanksgiving came and went, and after tight scrutiny he was allowed to return to his newly charmed apartment. It had been a nice few weeks holed up in the apartment block, but Angelica insisted that he showed face; his well-crafted alibi being that a friend was getting engaged in New Jersey.

Since the initial shock, Alex had slowly gotten used to seeing things he'd never dreamed of seeing, and dreaming things he'd never thought he'd see, and it was an added bonus when he would wake up to answers in the other room. In fact, his dreams had seemed to take a far less vicious approach since the storm, and each night was like a chapter in a forgotten book.

And goddamn, did Alexander Hamilton have a penchant for words.

On the other hand, there was one slight problem: despite remembering more than he'd expected, the thunderbird was still refusing to shed light. In all honesty, Alex assumed that he just wasn't doing it right, but after countless frustrated fits, and cups of soothing coffee, it was decided that his soul was just being stubborn.

“The same stubborness that got you shot, asshole.” Staring at the his reflection, Alex rolled his eyes at the poorly feathered copy: two plumes of crown feathers bristling. It was rather disappointing, knowing that he'd only managed this in three weeks of help, and it frustrated him to no end. “Just...Open up a little?”

The reflection didn't reply.

Disappointed, the thunderbird, or lack thereof, let the feathers recede into nothing, and shouldered his backpack with a sigh, leaving the apartment for another day at Columbia. It was getting colder, he'd mused, pulling at his beanie as he hit the streets, watching the mist form at each breath.

By the time he'd entered the campus, his feet immediately turned in the direction of The Night Owl, only for him to stop and wince.

No use in trying.

He hadn't been there in a while; especially after hearing that a specific guest lecturer had left the faculty.

A large plume of mist formed at his sigh.

Don't get him wrong, the last few weeks had been amazing in comparison, but Alex still found himself feeling bitter that his first entrance into his new life had decided to stay away.

Then again, said entrance was also his exit in his last life. Alex felt his side flutter with a phantom pain, and he closed his eyes. That was a problem in itself.

Having to share - or be - the memories of another man was in itself indescribable, and with such knowledge resting inthe back of his mind, Alex didn't know what was truly his own anymore. There was so much to consider, and so much to reconsider that it hurt. Dear god, it hurt a lot.

In short: he understood why Aaron refused to see him.

In longer words: he was furious that he wasn't given a platform to forgive the fucking avoider.

_“I'd tell you where he lives, but he told me in confidence, and I want to respect that.” Angelica, packing up as her leave came to a close, had regarded his question with questionable regret. “You know how he is.”_

He didn't, not really. A small spark of jealousy confirmed that.

_“I'm sure you can catch him in other ways, but don't worry yourself too much; he may be Burr, but there's a lot he's learned from Burnes, you get me?”_

That'd been two weeks ago, and Alex had yet to muster the courage of going to the law firm he worked at.

Instead, he focused on learning what he can.

* * *

 

“Ready for another Haven run?” Letting himself in, Alex waltzed up behind Eliza, planting his chin on her shoulder as she washed the last of her dishes, humming. “James is furious that I finished his minotaur-grade coffee.”

“He only stocks it because you're here now.” Eliza, titling her head to the side in a quick bop, chuckled softly. “He's a tea-lover; I don't see you hogging his personal blend.”

Alex made a face, before retreating from his current perch and flopping onto the couch. On impact, his trusty crown feathers plumed out from his hair; he refrained from letting any others push on his many layers of clothing. “I prefer the bean gods, please. How are the kids?”

“Oh, they're good. Spent the day practicing their speeches for the cultural evening, and I'm enjoying their progress.” Eliza replied fondly, arranging some mugs on the drying rack. “You should come; it's really fun.”

“I'm sure it is.” Alex found himself smiling. “You're a good teacher.”

“I guess I just enjoy it.” With that, she wiped her hands on a cloth and strode over, flopping next to him for a well-earned hug. “And you?”

“Nothing much: It's quiet at campus, and I'm waiting for a response from those firms for internships.” Leaning into the touch, Alex chuckled. “Hopefully they go well.”

“They will, your resume is insane.” Eliza huffed, leaning back for a quick peck on the cheek, “But let's get moving; we've got a lot to do.”

With that, the two parted, and Eliza walked to a small closet door in her room. Alex, tailing behind, heard the soft mutter of a portal swirling to life, and saw the grey-blue light it emitted.

Hand in hand, they were off.

* * *

 

Haven never ceased to amaze him, and having been the springboard for most of his current knowledge, Alex took every visit as a lesson.

His - well, Hamilton's - memories had its uses, but Alex found out that memories had a tendency to be a little outdated. Besides, 2017 was a drastic change to the likes of 1776, in more ways than one, and some memories just brought a shiver to his spine.

Haven did, however, have some similarities to some of his past memories: the place was full of tents and mismatched structures, each as colorful as the next, and the lighting came from various orbs and candles floating in the sky. The main source of light came from glowing stalactites on the ceiling, which he'd heard some goblins manufactured.

The pathways were lined with every monster great and small, with familars and golems and magical creations, all ready to boost the economy that was monster society. While some bartered with coin and note, others offered bottled spells and magical items as a trade. Hell, Alex once saw a fae shrink into a wendigo’s mouth and start picking at some stubborn tendons between its teeth.

While it looked archaic at first glance, Alex had soon learned how wrong that was.

Eliza, grabbing his hand, tugged him towards another open-air stall, and the pixie that manned it looked up in interest. “See anything you like, madame? Yes? We've got the best charms in this sector of Haven, mark my words!”

Alex watched the delicate wings flutter, and raised an eyebrow at the various knick-knacks on the table. Some of them looked innocent enough, while others had questionable items strung together; on one braclet, an eye in a jar blinked. Eliza, however, pointed at a section that screamed familarity, and Alex opened his mouth.

“A dreamcatcher? Seriously Eliz -”

“I had one in my room ages ago, and I think it'd do you some good.” Words laced with hidden meaning, she continued. “If you want to help that medium you're seeing, then I recommend storing some memories, eh?”

“Yes yes! These catchers will store every dream for about two months, yes yes!” The pixie, nodding vigorously, coaxed the two forward. “And only yours, so the bird picks? Yes?”

“Go ahead, Alex.” Eliza nodded, and gestured to the charms. “My treat.”

There were big charms and small charms, some conventionally round and others in obscure shapes. He didn't know where to start. Which one would work better for him?

“Open mind, sir, yes!” The pixie hummed, catching his eye. “Let it pick you, not you pick it.”

Alex sighed, and closed his eyes, skeptical; might as well listen to the expert.

His hand closed around something, and he opened an eye, seeing a bright pink and yellow dreamcatcher in his grasp. It was small, barely making the size of his hand, and the little bird trinket trilled a small tune.

He blanched. _Really?_

Eliza didn't seem to see his embarrassment, paying the pixie with polite chatter, and Alex took that moment to look around, hoping nobody saw him pick such a charm.

Nobody in the vicinity seemed to pay him any attention --

_Burnes?!_

In pure shock, the charm almost fell out of his hand, and yet the sight was too concrete to ignore. Alex knew that jacket-jean combo anywhere, and as the sight blended back into the crowds, he felt himself moving to maintain it.

_That motherf-_

Soon after, Alex was sprinting.

  
It was almost like the crowds increased in number the moment he started moving, dreamcatcher dropping into a bag he carried, yet the mauve winter-jacket stayed within sight. After his third full view, Alex deciphered that Aaron was not alone, being flanked by a lady and a man on either side.

They seemed to be familar with each other, given the way the lady clung onto his arm. Alex brushed off the growing fire in his stomach.

They walked for a while, apparently unaware of his presence, and stopped just outside some form of cafe, entering the tent.

Alex, blocked, skidded to a stop, looking around. None of this looked faintly familar... _shit._

“Okay Alex...To enter or not to enter…” Breathing heavily, he watched the tent flaps still, catching no light within.

There he was: alone, in a foreign part of Haven, tailing a man who probably didn't want to see him, and yet he was probably going to barge in, uninvited, and demand an audience.

_Can we confer, sir?_ Something within him fluttered at those words.

After twelve minutes of deliberation, Alex burst through the flaps, and was greeted by dim light and fluorescent red.

And eyes in the dark.

“Welcome to Nocturne, table for?” Jumping, Alex turned to see a creature plastered on the wall, eyes blinking and tail swaying. He couldn't decipher much from its hidden form, but the voice was obviously from it. “Table for?”

“I'm meeting a friend.” Swallowing, he replied, eyes narrowing at the already dim room. Unlike the vibrant calm of The Lily Pad, this hideout seemed more in line with the stereotyes of a monster: dark and gloomy.

Yet, by the live band playing jazz in the corner, it had class.

Alex spotted Burr and his friends in the corner, seated around a table with wine glasses upon it. Next to them, a bloodbag hang from a hook.

He shivered.

The voice faded away with the skitter of the creature, satisfied, and Alex made his way through the crowds, keeping his eyes peeled for anything suspicious. It felt like every nerve in his body was on fire with fear, refusing to meet eyes with any of the tent’s patrons, and when he got near enough, he tensed further.

A woman's voice floated through. “As we were saying, it'd be in your best interest if this little problem is resolved quickly. She insists that this does not need to run on for long, and I'm sure you miss -”

“What Tamara is trying to say, Aaron,” The man, gruff, entered the conversation, ignoring the huff from his companion. “Is that we don't mean any harm, and you'll be an asset to this.”

Alex sensed a lie, and lunged forward, sliding into the only empty seat at the table. “I'll drink to that.”

The silence was deafening, and Alex felt Aaron’s leg twitch.

Yet, a moment later, the woman seemed to switch back on. “Oh, is this is friend, Aaron?” A sip of her glass was followed by an interested smile. “I didn't know we were going to have company, let alone a -”

“We weren't.” Alex watched Aaron’s face with interest, and got nothing out of it. The vampire hadn't broken a bit. “Though Mr Hadley has a knack for appearing.”

The male vampire watched them with a scowl, but his eyes were shocked.

“Yeah, I'm a pest, I know, but I had to make sure the guy was getting his fill.” Alex felt the lie tumble off his lips, hiding his unease with a smirk. “He forgets sometimes, the workaholic.”

“Indeed.” Curt, the male vampire huffed, and turned his gaze away. “Can we get you a drink? We were just finishing off -”

“I think,” His companion, Tamara, he recalled, coughed lightly. “That there's not much else we need to talk about, Adam. Perhaps Mr Hadley would make sure that the bag is finished, no?”

With that, the two stood up, and Alex almost flinched at how large Adam looked up close, and turned away as the female leaned forward to ruffle the short buzz of Aaron’s hair. “Same time next week? I'll tell Miss Clara that you said hello.”

They didn't wait for an answer.

Silence.

Alex spoke first, after making sure they'd leftthe tent. “If it still stands, can I get a drink? Maybe a shot?”

That seemed to wring a groan out of Aaron, and the vampire downed his glass. “Why are you here, Alexander?” It was a rhetorical question, not meant to be answered, all wrapped up in his full name, and yet Alex ignored that.

“Well, when your friend - past and present - decides to jump after you remember some important things,” He drawled, hand reaching out to flick at a tube. “And then you see said friend with some really scary vampires…”

“One is an incubus.” Aaron batted his hand away, picking up the tube for a refill. “You shouldn't be here.”

“Yet I am, so whatever.” Alex shrugged, and shifted chairs to sit opposite him. “Wanna talk?”

“...You know what I'm going to say.” Eyes downcast, Aaron growled out a reply, and Alex swore they were glistening up. “And I've thought of enough versions of how you'd reply.”

For a moment, a dueling ground flashed across his eyes, blurry with pain. “...That was us, wasn't it?” A rhetorical question: the answer was obvious.

Aaron downed his glass again, placing it on the table with a sigh. “At first, I was in shock, not wanting to believe what I'd just done. Then the anger came after the press killed my name.”

_I, not him, Alex noted._

Aaron continued. “I played it off: ignored everyone, acted indifferent, skipped town, fucked some people...I guess I just wanted to see how much more I could destroy my reputation. And when that blasted Tome decided to rear its head, imagine my shock when my name was spared: Aaron Burr, political fuck-up, excluded once again.”

Alex looked away. “We both walked into that with the acceptance that we could die; and I was somewhat more of a dick for planning it.”

“We were both in the wrong, and paid for it.” Aaron shrugged. “In living and in death, it seems.”

Silence.

“Contrary to popular belief, I knew Aaron Burnes before I knew Aaron Burr.” Alex watched the latter look up slightly, and met the gaze calmly. “Sure, history books must have mentioned the guy somewhere, but it never really mattered, so why dwell on it. What we did was fucked up -”

“What are you -”

“Let me finish, I'm working on it.” Alex muttered, before nodding. “What we did was fucked up, but that is what we did...and we’re not doing it now. Can't we just...let history deal with it, and continue life as it is?”

Alex shifted, placing his cheek on the table so that he could catch Aaron’s full gaze, “It's over; I forgive you.”

“...You shouldn't have to.”

Alex, mentally breathing in, placed his hand over the other’s, and squeezed gently. “But I want to.”

They stared at each other for a long moment, the fabric of time weaving anew, and the silence wasn't as deafening as before.

It was comforting.

* * *

 

Aaron did get Alexander that shot, and by the time he found out that Alex hadn't entered Haven alone, the thunderbird was on his fourth shot glass of Witch’s Brew.

Well, the virgin counterpart: Aaron wasn't stupid.

However, Witch’s Brew had this quirk of having different effects on people, even if it didn't make one drunk in the alcoholic sense.

Alex seemed to have a few happy bursts of said magic.

“Up you get.” Slinging an arm around a bubbly Alex, probably high off the sugar content, the vampire found himself leaving the tent in less graceful style than usual. Luckily enough, Alex was lighter than he looked, and he could still walk well enough.

“What's up, dawg.” Giggling, Alex sprung away, making finger-guns at the other.

Aaron sighed, and proceeded to drag the thunderbird towards one of the entrances. It didn't take long before the childish game grew into the vampire carrying the other bridal style.

Aaron felt his face warm as Alex nuzzled his neck, humming the Friends theme, and when he noticed an amused Eliza just down the pathway, he almost dropped his cargo.

“Took you long enough.” Smirking, the phoenix folded her arms.

Aaron huffed. “Nothing happened. Now, can we get him home? He's heavy.”

The two locked eyes, and Eliza’s smirk grew. “If you say so.”

“Aaron, you're cold - oh hi Eliza!” Alex, shifting in the hold, beamed like a toddler. “I took shooty shots…”

As the thunderbird batted his eyes, the two just groaned, overly fond.

In the distance, someone sneered at the sight, triumphant.

* * *

 

“That tasted like - Argh!” While Witch’s Brew was a fun beverage, the instant nullification drink was anything but fun. After the two returned to Eliza’s apartment, Aaron held Alex down while Eliza administered the solution, and the results were obvious.

“I said you should have gone for juice.” Sarcasm lacing each blunt word, Aaron rolled his eyes, huffing. “Your loss.”

“My mouth is dead.” Alex whined. “It's dead. It's dying it's - what the hell is that taste - I can feel my throught hissing.”

Eliza chuckled, and patted him on the cheek. With that, the two sat on either side. “Would you rather act like a toddler for the next two days?”

“No….” Another cough.

“Then deal with it.” She pecked his cheek, and grabbed at the remote. “Speaking of dealing, I hope you two figured things out…” The two stiffened out of the corner of her eye, and Eliza hummed. “I take that as a yes?”

“Somewhat-”  
“Yeah we did.”

The two huffed.

“That's fine, then.” Eliza chuckled, and turned on the tv, “I'm going to watch The Office and make popcorn, care to join me?”

Seeing neither of them move, she got up, leaving them to argue which episode they'd watch, and shook her head fondly.

Some things never change, it seemed, yet some changes just build on the unchangable.

Sighing, she grabbed a bag.

  
They'd gone through two bags of microwave popcorn (one salted, one buttered) and five episodes when there was a knock on the door, feeble. At first, none if them heard it, fully engrossed in the lives on the screen, only for a sharp whack on wood to startle Aaron.

Pausing the show, Eliza looked at the door, before getting up. “Hello?”

“I-It’s me. Eliza, open the door.” A stuttered reply followed, pained, and Alex sprang up from his seat as the door was wrenched open.

“Oh my god.”

Hercules leaned on the door-frame, heaving silently, and smiled crookedly at the shocked individuals. Opening his mouth to speak, he winced, and Alex noted the jagged tear in his rabbit ear, leaking green. “Don't worry...Should've seen the other guy.”

Aaron, practically teleporting over, helped steady the púca as he walked, letting Herc slump into the armchair nearby. “What happened?” He seemed panicked.

“So I was -” A cough. “Coming home from the store, and then some of those cultists jump me.” Eliza gasped, and Herc continued, focusing on breathing. “Three of them, I think, at least one vampire, because I'm sure that thing they do to make their victims docile is in me.”

At the words, Aaron moved to check for bitemarks, shaking. “What did… What did they want?”

“So they rough me up and I rough ‘em right back.” Hercules chuckled, which turned into a cough, “And they manage to pin me down long enough for the leader to go ‘So we've heard there's a thunderbird in these parts’, and I just went crazy.” He waved a hand, wincing. “And now I'm here.”

Alex felt the world close in, and a weight by his side is made by Eliza’s side-hug. The world closed in further. “They want me?”

“This was bound to happen.” Aaron muttered, shaking his head. “They run mad whenever something new appears -”

“Would they know that Alex is...Alex?” Eliza murmured, “Nothing has gotten out?”

“If they don't know I’m Mulligan, and I'm in the book...Then you're all still safe.” Herc nodded solemnly. “If they did, they would have sent me back with fatal wounds, enough to relay the message.”

Aaron flinched.

Alex pulled out of Eliza’s embrace, shaking slightly. “But what if they do, how would we know if they -”

The púca regarded him with a calm gaze. “I'll go check; their headquarters isn't pretty secret if you know who to ask.”

Alex choked. “Wait, no!” Kneeling in front of Herc, he spluttered. “You're hurt.”

“Then I'll go.” The room turned to the voice, and Aaron shrugged. “It's better that way; I have cult connections.”

_It clicked: Tamara and her companion, too shady to function._

_“Well that was news” , Alex heard that little voice in his head chuckle._

 

“Are you sure? Because I don't want you to…”

“I'll be fine,” Dismissive, the vampire focused on one of Herc’s bite-marks, and shook his head. “For now, Hercules needs to heal and get some rest. I'll work on the intel.”

Eliza moved to the púca’s other side, and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I'll call James.”

With that, and a sad smile sent his way, Alex watched her leave, and the world seemed to loosen its grip on his throat.

They wanted him.  
And people are getting hurt for it.

  
As the night stretched on, and plans were thrown around the room, Alex found himself staring into space more often than not, scared. Helpless.

In some twisted way, this was all his fault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back, with some problems arising aha! With the new fnaf game on another window, and day-long rain, I hope this chapter came out well. Anyway, let me know what you think! ^^


End file.
